


Form and Function

by JoansGlove



Series: Hierarchy of Needs [8]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan is not feeling herself</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With Thanks to Duchess and Ifitbelove for their support during the creation of this tale

Excited as she was, Vera had still found it hard to believe that this was happening to her.  
“Are you sure it’s OK for me to come? I thought Departmental staff had to be invited by the committee?”  
“Let me worry about that, Vera. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more at this point in their career. Look at what you have achieved in such a short time,” Joan flourished her hand at an imaginary list “your confidence in your abilities has increased immeasurably, I mean, you prevented Conway’s escape and you dealt with your mother admirably. You’ve overcome setbacks like the drop box fiasco and you are proving yourself to be the greatest asset in my team,” she smiled encouragingly at Vera, “believe in yourself and others will believe in you too….; but you are working too hard, you require a change of scene.”  
“And, it garners an overnight stay in the City?”  
“Indeed it does, Vera. No expense spared for the glitterati. But us mere mortals, who actually live here, will be lucky to even get our bus fare reimbursed!” She grinned at the irony of the Departmental penny pinching that blighted her quarterly budgets.

Vera closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh of longing.  
She pushed a surprised Joan into the wall and growled at her to shut up, either Vera had grown or Joan had shrunk but they were suddenly face to face and using her forearm, Vera pinned Joan’s shoulders to the painted cinder block and swiftly unbuttoned the Governor’s jacket then unbuckled her belt. Joan tried to wrestle Vera away but her Deputy was surprisingly strong and thrust her wiry body against her superior’s, stifling her protestations by filling Joan’s mouth with her tongue. She felt Joan sag under the force of the kiss and Vera pressed her advantage by grinding her hip into the trousered crotch.  
Her hands found a gap between them and set about exposing Joan’s hot skin and pushing the unnecessary clothing off her pale body. Stepping away she roughly hauled Joan’s trousers to her ankles and groaned in lusty pleasure when she saw that the Governor was naked under her uniform. Ohhhh fuck, her clit jumped and she flooded with slick heat.

Vera gave a little start, how long had she been daydreaming? She checked the clock by her bed – just enough time – and began to stroke scented oil into her skin. Her cunt fluttered as her greasy palms brushed over her hard nipples and she couldn’t help herself, she poured more oil into her cupped palm and drizzled it over her breasts, adding yet more until her chest and belly were streaked with gleaming rivulets. A deep groan emerged from her throat as her hands skated over her high breasts and down past her navel, smearing the sweet smelling lubricant back up to her tits and fingering her painfully tight nipples till they ached and her thighs twitched at the predictable arousal she had come to love.  
Grabbing the bottle Vera got up and pulled a small storage box from under the bed and, surveying the meagre selection, chose the slim vibrator (its modest length designed for discreet transportation in a handbag). She plumped up her pillows and settled back, picking up her daydream where she left off as she liberally anointed her inner thighs and hot snatch with cool oil, fingers separating her lips and teasing the swollen ruffles of her inner labia as she spread the delicious slipperiness over her twitching groin.

Vera lowered her mouth to Joan’s breast, nuzzling into the warm softness, licking and biting: the intense buzz of the vibrator against her own long, stiff nipple sent pulses of exquisite tightness to her clit, building the tension until the lightest touch of her slippery finger had her jerking and writhing on the mattress. She slipped the rubberised shaft into the gap above her tightly clamped knees and slowly dragged it upwards until it connected with the bare skin of her puckered quim.  
Her fingers worked their way between Joan’s firm thighs, parting the dark wings of hair in their quest for the sticky heat of her sex and sliding alongside moist flanges of delicate flesh as they sought her molten core: Vera squeezed her legs together tightly and humped the small cock, feeling it sink deeper into her receptive channel, the buzzing intensifying as it settled into the snug surroundings. She began to whimper and gasp as she became lost in the sheer sexiness of her superior.

Her fantasy veered between touching Joan (and having the magnificent woman touch her back) and watching through a voyeuristic haze as the two them sweated and ground their naked bodies together. She couldn’t resist prolonging the exquisite ecstasy, teasing herself, building the tension in her clit till she was crying out and jerking uncontrollably then moving the buzzing tip to her slippery entrance, eyes rolling as the insistent rod finally pierced her clenched centre and filled her with its unremitting throb, letting the bliss build until she could withstand the self-inflicted torture no more.  
Joan gazed down at her in triumphant expectation and plunged her fingers repeatedly and noisily in and out of Vera’s clutching, sopping cunt, and Vera stared fixedly at Joan’s creamy tits as they swung with her efforts: angling the head of the vibrating rubber cock against her G-spot Vera spread her knees as wide a she could and rubbed hard and fast at her rigid clit feeling the gathering grip of orgasm before an indefinably sweet glow of weightless light filled her, the burn in her strained muscles and ligaments becoming a soft caress on her senses as peals of blissful release rang through her, underscored by deep powerful waves of grinding euphoria and her guttural, wordless cries. 

A vision of Joan’s handsome face, strong features softened by afterglow, floated behind her closed lids as Vera lay trembling on the bedcovers coming down from her high. In a daze her lashes fluttered open and she read the time; all languor vanished as she made sense of the unfocused numerals.  
The clock had to be lying! It couldn’t possibly be 7:15! Vera flew from the bed and scrubbed fruitlessly at her oil slicked body with a rough towel but no amount of wiping could get enough of it off so that the lining of her dress wouldn’t be ruined. Shit, she’d have to have another bath; and her hair! She patted the rollers that dangled loosely from their anchor points. She just hoped and prayed that Joan was running late too.  
She was still sluicing off the thin lather when Joan rang the bell. Vera floundered out of the bath and hurried to the front door, the fabric of her thin kimono sticking to the sodden curves and planes of her body.  
The smile on Joan’s face faded as she saw the state of Vera. A curt and disappointed “Oh” was all she had to say. 

Joan stepped past her and into the hallway. She seemed to fill the space in her tailored tuxedo and expensive perfume. She carried a narrow cardboard box.  
The tall woman made a show of checking the time on her wristwatch then fixed Vera with cold black eyes. “Are you deliberately trying to provoke me, Vera, hmmm? What on earth have you been doing all this time if you aren’t ready still?” she swept a withering glance over Vera’s slovenly appearance.  
“I’m so sorry, Joan. Time just got away from me. Look, have a drink whilst I finish dressing.” She hurried into the kitchen and came back with a frosty bottle of vodka and a single glass. Ushering Joan into the lounge Vera bent over the stereo trying to find a classical music station, her thin robe gaped as she leaned forward and Joan was afforded a welcome flash of breast and pointed nipple but it did little to lighten her irritation.  
Following the previous debacle with the couturier Joan had thought that Vera would have taken more care to be punctual; Vera had still been in her robe that time too when she had finally opened the front door. Joan had been forced to make apologies to the owner and beg an extension to their appointment. She thought that she had left Vera in no doubt about her attitude to time keeping but it seemed that once again, her words had failed to penetrate sufficiently.  
She ignored the vodka bottle and stood silently in the centre of the room waiting for Vera to pull herself together.

Vera recognised the tight look on Joan’s face and stopped dithering; she raced upstairs, yanking out rollers as she went. Fuck! Shit! You fucking idiot! She thought to herself, you wasted all that time fantasising about fucking Joan and now you’ve fucked up your chance of doing it for real! She hastily rubbed herself dry and dragged her fancy underwear over still damp skin thinking how she would never be able to do her make-up as she’d planned. Instead of the glamorous, smoky eyes and defined cheeks she wanted she knew that the safest option was a coating of all in one foundation and powder, a dab of eye shadow and mascara and a slick of new red lipstick – at least that wouldn’t go to waste. Her intended bouffant up-do was also out of the question but Joan had explicitly instructed to wear her hair up so she wound her curls into an elegantly messy bun and stabbed a handful of pins into it, finishing the look with a couple of ornamental chopsticks.  
Fuck it! It would have it do!

Shoes in hand Vera rushed into the lounge and turned off the stereo. “Joan? Can you zip me up please?”  
“In a moment, Vera. I want to discuss something with you.” Joan sat erect in the wing chair, hands resting loosely on the arms.  
Vera looked down at her expectantly and held her dress in place with wrinkled fingers.  
“Do you think that you can start taking liberties because I opened up to you? Do you now think that I have developed a sense of indulgence where you are concerned?” Joan raised her eyebrow as she waited for Vera’s answer.  
Vera didn’t know what to say. She burned with an angry embarrassment at Joan’s arrogance.  
“It can’t continue, Vera. If you had other commitments then I could understand but you don’t. Your lax attitude caused us to miss our appointment at the boutique, you're damn lucky Alphonse was willing to make an allowance for me otherwise you’d be wearing some clumsy off the rack effort right now. And do you think that it’s just me that you’ve inconvenienced with your tardiness tonight?” Joan checked her watch again. “We were due to pick up Maggie Ferguson en route but I have been forced to make last minute arrangements to ensure she’ll arrive on time - without us. There’s fashionably late, Vera and then there’s downright rude.” She allowed her words to sink in. She wasn’t particularly angry with Vera for her timekeeping tonight; it was more the principle of the thing, yet she felt the need to exert her dominance following her unexpected candour in the park last week. In fact, at this stage they still had plenty of time but the opportunity was too good to pass up; Maggie had agreed when Joan had called her to explain the unavoidable delay.  
Vera’s shamed blush deepened. She could kick herself – once for letting herself get carried away and losing track of time and twice for repeating the same mistake again after Joan had expressed her irritation so clearly the time before. But, she thought angrily, if Joan had actually bothered to tell her that Maggie was waiting on them then of course, she would have made an extra effort to be ready and waiting when Joan rocked up.  
“And so,” Joan continued, “I feel I must reprimand you. I’m therefore offering you a choice: forfeit your invitation to the ceremony or accept a token physical punishment.”  
Vera was taken aback. She stared at Joan in disbelief. “What am I? A naughty child?”  
Joan sat forward, her expression suddenly stony, her tone terse. “No, Vera. You're not. You're a grown woman with responsibilities. And there are always consequences for shirking your responsibilities. So what will it be, hmmm?”  
Vera considered her options. She wasn’t going to miss out on the chance of spending a night in the City with Joan so she would have to take her punishment and hope that would be an end to the matter. How bad could it be if Joan still intended to take her along afterwards?  
“Time’s up, Vera. What’s it to be?”  
She sighed heavily. “I’ll take the punishment, Joan.”  
“Excellent choice, Vera.” Joan removed her jacket and laid it over the back of the sofa. The starched dress shirt was sleeveless and had been cut deeply at the shoulder to reveal her softly defined musculature. Her bare right arm bore a series of dappled bruises around the elbow. She caught Vera looking at them. “A reminder for me to pay more attention when anticipating my opponent’s intentions” she explained.

The bandeau bodice of the dress Joan had chosen for her was edged in softly gleaming black leather and the matching zip placket extended upwards to connect with a plain leather band that circled her thin neck, it displayed the delicate angles of Vera’s fine shoulder blades and the open zip framed much of her lightly muscled spine. Joan stood behind Vera and pushed the midnight blue dress forward off her shoulders; she pulled Vera’s arms out of it and folded the bodice down before unhooking the strapless bra that boosted her pretty breasts.  
Joan moved in front of Vera again and opened the narrow box. “In days gone by this would be a corsage but they’re passé, and so short lived. These,” she pulled out a pair of black opera gloves “will last you for years to come if you look after them properly.”  
She separated the pair placing one back in its cardboard cradle then drawing its mate through her curled fingers. “Hands on the back of your head please, Vera.”

Pacing to and fro in front of Vera Joan gripped the glove by the wrist and slapped her open palm a few times until she was satisfied with the resulting sting. She was filled with a thrum of erotic anticipation at the sight of the half-naked woman in front of her; during their previous encounters any chastisement she had inflicted on Vera had been tempered with sex but this was different, it would be interesting to see how her Deputy dealt with a stand-alone event.  
She turned and addressed her errant Deputy. “If at any point you consider ending this punishment before I deem fit, Vera I want you to remember this; I’m only doing it because you are important to me. I wouldn’t have offered an alternative option to any of my other students.” 

Joan’s elbow and wrist flicked out and the leather glove snapped across Vera’s nipple; moving a little closer she delivered another ranging lash. Better. She shifted her stance and tried again. Vera winced slightly as the leather connected soundly with her breast making it wobble and smart. Ahh, she hadn’t lost her touch!  
“What is it they say, Vera, hmmm? Third time’s the charm?” she grinned wickedly “and thank goodness for these lovely high ceilings! Now, chin up and head back.”  
The initial smacks of the glove caused Vera to inhale sharply; more from the shock of contact than the actual sting, the sting that mellowed and bloomed into a welcome tingle that flowed through her body. She ogled Joan’s impressive physique, admiring her fluid motions and melting a little inside at the liquid blackness of Joan’s eyes as her earlier displeasure was replaced by a softness – she looked almost tender as she exacted Vera’s punishment.

Time seemed to stretch as she beat Vera. She grew warm with the delicious exertion; her wrinkled nipples scrubbed on the inside of her starched shirt and began to fire signals to her swelling sex.  
Settling into a steady, pleasing pattern Joan marked the skin around Vera’s nipples then aimed the leather strip directly at them. They grew so swollen, the redness glowing through Vera’s dark pigmentation and Joan desperately wished that she could go further but they were on a schedule and Vera didn’t deserve her special attention; not until she could comport herself appropriately. She could see the effect her lashes were having on Vera; she watched as her Deputy began to feel the arousing effect of leather on bare skin, rotating her hips under her narrow skirt and moaning softly as her kindred taste for pain was catered for but Joan was surprised at how much Vera endured before the beating became overwhelming and she began to writhe in an entirely different way. She suppressed the urge the strip Vera of her dress and thrash her torso and thighs as well, unfortunately that went well beyond the boundaries of a token punishment.

Vera didn’t know whether to cry or come; the pain in her breasts had built up until her clit felt like it would burst but now her arms ached and each spank of leather on her increasingly raw skin made her shoulders jerk and sag as the pleasing throb between her thighs faded in the face of the continued whipping. And as the discomfort began to outweigh the initial pleasure Vera found it grew harder to appreciate the physical virtues of her Governor, her sense of unfairness began to colour her perception until Joan seemed the image of an automaton, programmed to perform the same range of strokes over and over.  
She tried to push such uncharitable thoughts out of her mind. She had agreed to this so she had to ride it out until Joan reached satisfaction, was it any more painful or humiliating than any of the other lessons she’d been taught so far? She could see how much Joan was enjoying meting out her ‘punishment’, maybe she would benefit from her improved mood and obvious arousal after the awards ceremony but still, it hurt and she dearly hoped that it would be over soon. 

“That will do. You can put your arms down now, Vera.” Joan laid the glove with its twin and straightened her shirt front, checking her make-up in the over mantle mirror and patting the nest of woven plaits that cradled the back of her skull. She watched as Vera tenderly touched her sore breasts and pushed down thoughts of abandoning the function in favour of permitting Vera to give her the chance to let her make it up to her. Joan shook her head, what was happening to her? She was never this weak; never!  
Composing herself, she approached Vera and rolled the cold liquor bottle over her burning skin as she gently stroked Vera’s hot cheek. “I’m proud of you Vera.” Her smile was sincere and her tone warm. “You bore that well but make no mistake; I won’t hesitate to employ something more memorable if you fail to learn from this.”  
Vera felt a welling of gratitude towards Joan for stopping before she’d been forced to beg for leniency but part of her still railed against the arbitrary punishments that she had been offered. If Joan wasn’t so determined to make her wait for the right moment then she wouldn’t have to give in to fantasy to keep herself from going mad. She stood mutely as Joan placed the bottle on the coffee table and set about re-dressing her. Her tender nipples rubbed distractingly against her bra and she couldn’t help shivering with desire as Joan smoothed the leather collar around her neck and slowly drew the zip towards her nape.

“I had considered suggesting that you wear the gloves from your Lucia outfit but then I remembered that they were irrevocably soiled.” She grinned wryly thinking how she’d secretly enjoyed being the cause of Vera’s sticky fingers. “To make sure it doesn’t happen again I’ve taken the liberty of having the leather of this pair specially treated. Let’s see what they look like on.” Joan stared into Vera’s eyes and smiled sweetly.  
The gloves hugged her like a second skin, the red silk lining kissing her arms as Joan smoothed the wrinkles from the buttery hide and fastened the small buttons on the inner wrist.  
“Joan! These must have cost you a fortune!”  
“Vera. You cannot accessorise a first rate gown like this with second rate gloves. Anyway, I regard them as an investment. Now sit down so that I can strap you into those pretty shoes of yours, time marches on….”  
Hitching her trouser legs Joan knelt before Vera and lifted each small foot in turn into her lap, slipping the cone of satin over her toes and tightening the criss-crossing leather straps about her fine ankles. Releasing Vera she stood up and gazed proudly upon her creation.  
“No more dallying, Vera. The car’s waiting…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those that know your military history please forgive me - I’ve taken some artistic license with the WRAAC/Australian Army integration and roles available to women at that time

The hotel ballroom was thronged with the great and the good in the world of Correctional Services, one or two of them had trained with Vera, others she’d only seen in the media or the officers’ quarterly Gazette; here and there she spotted women from Maggie’s Christmas party. She and Joan drew more than the odd interested look, quite possibly due to the way Joan guided Vera around the room with a proprietal hand in the small of her back but more, thought Vera as she glimpsed their reflection, because they made a startlingly handsome couple.  
In the past, she would have felt out of her depth, apprehensive and tongue-tied but tonight there was none of Old Vera in attendance; no, tonight she felt comfortable and confident; just as well she thought to herself, Joan would not appreciate being shown up in front of her peers. 

“I’m going to introduce you formally to Maggie to save any gossipy speculation; when we find her that is….”  
Their path was blocked by Derek Channing.  
“Joan!” he smarmed “… and Vera! I hardly recognised you out of uniform.” His roving eyes covered every inch of her chest and came to rest on the collar, his lips pursing like a dog’s arse as he recalculated Vera’s fuckability.  
“I’m looking for Margaret Ferguson, Derek, have you seen her in your travels?”  
“She’s in the bar with the Minister but it all looked rather cosy if you know what I mean? I don’t know if they’d appreciate being interrupted…”  
“Oh I’m sure Richard won’t mind if I butt in.”  
Channing did an almost comic double take. “On first name terms with the minister are we, Joan?” His eyes narrowed as he wondered how she had swung that.  
“Naturally, Derek.” A smile graced her ruby lips but her eyes remained cold.

Maggie was indeed chatting to the Minister but she welcomed Joan effusively.  
“Richard, may I introduce Joan Ferguson, Governor of Wentworth here in Melbourne.”  
“Well, Joan, I’ve heard great things about you,” he said enthusiastically as he shook her hand, “it’s good to finally put a face to the name.” His eyes travelled down her curvaceous form finding her mix of masculine femininity innately sexy. He felt his cock twitch at the thought of what was underneath her tuxedo.  
“Likewise, Minister.” She smiled beguilingly at him.  
“Call me Richard.”  
“Very well. I’d like you both to meet my Deputy, Vera Bennett.”  
“Vera!” exclaimed Maggie warmly, “Joan speaks very highly of you. I’m so glad we’ve had the chance to finally meet.”  
“Me too. Your reputation precedes you!”  
Vera couldn’t help but notice how handsome Maggie looked in her softly draping suit of petrol blue. She wore a plain white slash-necked blouse under the short jacket and had pushed the three-quarter sleeves up to her elbows revealing toned forearms, the slim-line mans watch glinted as she shook Vera’s hand enthusiastically. Vera’s attention slipped from the watch to Maggie’s belly and thighs, their rounded fullness only hinted at by the softy structured wide-leg cut that swept down to the squared toes of her boots. Vera found herself wishing that Maggie would turn around so that she could see her bum; she felt a blush coming on as she looked up into Maggie’s smiling face.

“It’s not often that you're in the company of two Governor Fergusons, Vera,” the Minister joked.  
“At least we work in different facilities now, Richard, imagine the confusion when we were both in the ranks at Rawmarsh, especially if we worked the same shift!” Maggie chuckled, her eyes twinkling.  
Joan smiled too but only she and Maggie knew that it wasn’t by chance that they shared the same surname. Joan Ivanovna Kireyevova no longer existed. She had died almost thirty years ago. The only link Joan had kept to that name was her father’s cigarette lighter; even her brother went by the name of Kier nowadays – but his reason was political, hers was not, it never had been. She had never belonged in that family but Maggie had accepted her and given her the security she hadn’t known was missing.

*******************************************************************************************************************

Despite the sumptuous buffet Joan ate sparingly, favouring only grilled chicken and green vegetables, and eschewing the complimentary wine; in fact, Vera noted, Joan hadn’t touched alcohol all night. She was people watching Vera realised, absorbing the idle gossip that floated on the air like an intoxicating scent, identifying alliances and divisions that she could store for future use. She herself had overheard a salacious bit of chitchat and desperately wished that she knew whose character was being assassinated:  
“I remember him when he was little more than a procurer of male whores for the then Minister.”  
“Rumour has it he’s picked up the Minister’s dirty little habit but that his tastes run to the younger element.”

Returning to her seat with a selection of desserts Vera found Joan holding forth with a tone of absolute authority.  
“It’s not drug use per se that’s the problem, as with anything it’s the misuse and abuse of them, and," she stressed, "the associated criminality involved in the control of production and supply that causes the issues we face today.”  
“Are you advocating the controlled legalisation of drugs then, Joan?”  
“Well why not? It’s got to be a better option than prohibition hasn’t it? And it would ease the burden on our profession considerably. Look at the effect the change in prostitution laws had on female prison population levels.” Heads nodded in agreement.  
“Do you think it’s right then that the Government encourage addiction?”  
“Ha! If it were that concerned about preventing addiction amongst the populace then cigarettes and alcohol would be banned too!” Joan looked round at her audience challenging dissent. “What? You don’t think that the cost of treating the fallout from those two drugs is less than the combined budgets we allocate each year to stemming the flow of narcotics; incarcerating the mules and dealers, and treating the unfortunate addicts do you? Alcohol abuse is a major blight on society – it exacerbates human weakness, conversely how many men have spent the night smoking cannabis and then gone home to beat their wives or rape some unfortunate woman, hmmm?” she carefully folded her napkin. “Why favour one drug over another? Think of what could be achieved if society came to its senses! I mean, think of what we could do with the tax revenue it would generate!”  
She was interrupted as the Minister took the stage and trotted out the speech his assistant had obviously penned for him before introducing the MC for the night.  
Vera glanced sideways at Joan as she focused on the sharp-suited man under the spotlight; she’d never thought that Joan could hold such liberal views on the subject of drug use, she was so staunchly anti-drugs at work that Vera had assumed that it was her personal stance too. She wondered if perhaps Joan was speaking from personal experience, after all she reasoned, she must have had a life before the Service.

Forty five minutes later Vera was stupendously bored. She whispered into Joan’s ear “Is it just me or are most of these awards for self-serving projects aimed at promotion and not actually helping the prisoners?”  
“Absolutely, Vera,” murmured Joan, “and if they were ever scrutinised closely I think we’d find their success has been grossly over exaggerated.”  
“You're not tempted to compete with them? I mean, there are plenty of angles to work if one were to truly desire improvement from within the system…”  
“Vera, a drug-free, well-run prison filled both with compliant, respectful inmates and staff is reward enough.”  
Vera opened her mouth but was silenced as Joan held up her hand. “Shh, it’s Maggie’s turn.”  
Vera shredded a carnation from the centrepiece whilst the Chairman of the Board wittered on about how pleased he was to present Governor Ferguson with her long service award, how it was a sad day for corrections that such a consummate professional was leaving its ranks et cetera, et cetera.  
Maggie looked uncomfortable and she kept her own speech short, escaping as soon as she could, awkwardly juggling the heavy lump of crystal and the large bouquet of pink and white roses as she made her way back to her table.

Now that they were free to do so, most guests began to stretch their legs.  
“Why don’t you go and join Maggie, Vera? I’ll be over presently, I just want a quick word with Cynthia.”  
“Oh god, is she here?”  
“Don’t worry, she won’t bother you tonight, Vera; not if she knows what’s good for her.” 

“Joan won’t be long.” Vera smiled apologetically as she sat down next to Maggie.  
“So how have you found it so far? Not quite the glamorous affair everyone makes it out to be is it?” she winked at her companion.  
I suppose it’s different if you're a nominee but I’m still enjoying myself.” She fingered the hard edge of Maggie’s award. “Thirty years; I wonder if they’ll still be giving these out when I retire.”  
“Yeah, thirty years and I still remember my first day on the job. I was scared shitless!”  
What did you do before you joined the Service?  
“I was in the Army. I worked in the Intelligence division, under Joan’s dad in fact.”  
“Her dad? Two Fergusons in the same unit again?” Vera laughed at her observation.  
“Yeah, something like that, but no one would ever confuse a lowly WRAAC with a regular Army Major.”  
“So why did you leave? It must have been fascinating…!”  
“Ah, well,” Maggie drew her lips together, “the Army decided that I wasn’t the right sort of soldier so it was suggested that I seek out other career options.”  
Nosy as ever Vera couldn’t help prying. “So did you know Joan all that time ago or did you only meet her when she came to Rawmarsh?”  
“I’ve known Joan since she was your height, Vera!”  
Vera tried to imagine Joan as a child but her mind kept filling with images of a young Maggie in a beige WRAAC uniform and brown leather gloves. “So what are your plans now, Maggie? What’s next?”  
“Next? Well I don’t know about you but I’m going to have a drink!” 

Her business with Cynthia concluded, Joan was within spitting distance of Maggie’s table when the Minister snared her.  
“Please don’t tell me your dance card is already full, Joan; there’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” He offered his arm and with more than a dash of intrigue Joan accepted.  
She endured his small talk and over familiar hands, moving effortlessly across the floor as she waited for him to make his pitch.  
“We need more people like you in corrections.”  
“Yes.”  
“I’d like to see you working directly under me, Joan.”  
“Oh yes?”  
“Of course, Joan. You're a very capable woman.”  
“Yes.”  
“You're wasted running that glorified girls’ school. A woman of your abilities has so much more to offer.”  
“Such as?”  
His solicitous smile put Joan’s teeth on edge. “I think that you could apply that firm hand of yours to any situation and be assured of a successful outcome.”  
“That’s very kind of you to say so, Minister; and, er, what sort of position did you have in mind should I choose to consider your generous proposal?” She seriously doubted that anything he could have to say would sway her ambitious plan.  
“Ooh, let’s just say that you play your cards right and you could have your pick of projects.”  
Not this tired old line…. Joan pulled back a little and regarded the odious man thoughtfully, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “And what game are we playing?” She leaned in and whispered into his ear: “it wouldn’t be stri-P poker by any chance would it?” She drew away again to watch his reaction.  
“Joan!” He blustered, “nothing as coarse as that! All I’m saying is that we could develop a very mutually satisfying relationship.”  
“I’m sure we could, but I fear that one of us might end up more satisfied than the other….?”  
“I don’t get it, Joan, doesn’t the prospect of promotion tempt you?” he couldn’t see why she was being so recalcitrant.  
“I’m sorry, Minister but I believe in advancement through merit - every step of my career so far has been earned; you wouldn’t want me to compromise my integrity at this stage would you?”  
“Think about it, Joan.”  
“I certainly shall.” She left him with a winning smile that faded as she turned and sought out her preferred partners.

Vera had been asked to dance several times but had steadily declined all offers due to her sense of loyalty to Joan until Maggie all but told her to get out there and mingle; that was how she found herself dancing with a very attractive up and coming officer called Jim Faulkner. He was so charming that Vera realised that she was flirting shamelessly with him and enjoying every minute of it. When the dance ended he led her to a secluded corner.  
“So how did you manage to make Deputy so young, Vera? You must be one tough lady!”  
“Not all the time.” She flashed a coquettish smile at him.  
“No, I bet there’s times when you can be sweet as honey.” He lightly circled her knee cap through the material of her tight skirt and returned a boyish grin. “Go on then, tell me - what’s it like working for Joan Ferguson? I hear she’s a hard task master.”  
“No, not really, she just wants everyone to do a good job. She asks no more from me than she does of herself. In fact, I think she’s probably the best Governor I’ve ever worked under.” Vera knew that if he got her talking then she could well reveal her personal feelings around Joan so she employed a technique she’d learned from TV – every time Jim spoke she fingered the leather edging of her dress, making him glance down at the softly gleaming foothills of her breasts. The more he talked, the more opportunity he had to see down her front.  
“What about you and Channing, Jim; how did you get him to notice you?”  
Jim snickered a little. “Don’t tell anyone but I flirted with him. Tight trousers, the odd saucy look and occasional lingering arse slap; it’s amazing how little it took for him to suggest fast-tracking me – under his supervision of course.”  
“Aren’t you worried that he’ll want to collect on his investment someday?”  
“Nah, I reckon he’ll slip up long before then and get booted out of the Department.”  
“I don’t follow...”  
“Channing will fuck just about anyone who takes his fancy and especially anybody who might further his ambitions, but he treads a fine line sometimes as to who he roots, and where; though I don’t know what the attraction is for his partners.” Jim licked his lips as he watched Vera's slim, gloved fingers glide over the gentle swell of her cleavage, imagining them pressing his cock between her tits.  
“He gives good head.”  
“Are you speaking from personal experience, Vera?” His eyes lit up at her hinted promiscuity.  
“No, I know someone who has though.” She grinned and gave his thigh a playful squeeze. “Now, what other delicious little tit-bits have you got squirrelled away in that handsome head of yours…?”

Joan’s jaw tightened as she caught sight of Vera with Faulkner; she felt disgust as Vera allowed herself to be pawed by him. She stormed over to her erstwhile mentor and threw herself into a chair.  
Maggie followed Joan’s peevish gaze. “She’s a fast worker isn’t she?”  
“Shut up!”  
“Who is he?”  
“One of Channing’s boys.”  
“He’s pretty isn’t he?”  
“Shut up!” Joan glared at Maggie.  
“You're not jealous are you, Joan?”  
Joan delivered a venomous look to her mentor. “Don’t, Maggie….” she warned in a low voice.  
“Well I never! I thought you were just lining her up as a reliable friend with benefits….. Wonders will never cease! But what do you expect? She’s like a kicked dog, grateful for any kind word. And when have you ever paid her that much attention? I mean in a social situation. If I know you, Joan, you’ve made her work for every kind word.” Maggie looked critically at her difficult friend.  
Joan ignored her, all of her attention focused on Vera as she squealed in delight at some comment and her small hand flew to her cleavage.  
“Are you worried she wants to sleep with him? Is that it?”  
Joan turned her glacial stare on Maggie. Her nostrils flared with contempt at the question.  
“Or is it that you’re concerned that she wants to sleep with him more than she wants to sleep with you?” she smiled thinly as Joan pursed her lips in a moue of petulant anger. “Of course, you know how to fight against the temptations of another woman but men have something you can never offer her, isn’t that so? That sort of thinking will eat you up Joan, it’s not worth dwelling on; but, if it worries you so much, you should seriously consider giving her what she needs – or at the very least, enough to tide her over.”  
“I’ve told her I need time, Maggie. She knows I need to be sure she can handle it.”  
“Look, Joan, remember how lost you were after Ivan died? You’ve given her something to cling to but most women need more than vague promises. Have you told her why you need more time? The real reason I mean….”  
Joan’s lips tightened further; a muscle twitched faintly in her cheek.  
“You’ve obviously found something that you’d given up looking for – no, don’t deny it, I’m not blind! She may not be perfect but if you think that she’s what you want and you don’t want her to run away then you need to give her something to stay for. So I’m asking you nicely, Joan; get a grip.”  
Anger flared. “So what, am I supposed to forget that she works for me? Forget my own needs to accommodate hers?” She paused and fiddled with the cuff of her dinner jacket whilst she composed herself. “Admit that I’ve always wanted her, even against my better judgement, and I can’t explain why?”  
“If that what it takes then yes, Joan. Why don’t you just try giving her the benefit of the doubt? She may very well surprise you. People do it all the time you know.”  
“I don’t know if I can commit myself like that again, Maggie. And even if I can, I don’t know that I want to….”  
“Then cut her loose and move on before she gets too addictive. If you can. But whatever you decide, I don’t intend it to spoil my plans for tonight. Go and fetch her, I’ve had enough of these people.”

Vera’s giggles subsided as she looked up into Joan’s stern features “Will you excuse us a moment, Mr Faulkner? I require a word with my Deputy.”  
“Vera, I’m afraid we must absent ourselves.”  
“Oh, you go if you have to, Joan; I’ll be fine here with Jim.” Vera suddenly realised what she’d said! She’d just rebuffed Joan without thinking about it, could she do nothing right?  
“You misunderstand me, Vera.” Joan smiled acidly at Faulkner, “we have been invited to ‘go on’ to another more select gathering.” Her tone was cold and barely disguised irritation tightened the muscles around her eyes and mouth. “Of course, if you want to stay with your new friend, that’s entirely up to you.”  
“I’m sorry, Joan; I don’t know what was thinking, of course.” She turned to Jim who was looking more than a little put out. “It’s been lovely chatting to you; perhaps we can do it again next time….”  
“Look forward to it, Vera. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He stood as they said their goodbyes and began the search for another likely partner before they had taken more than a dozen steps.

Channing saw Joan guiding Vera towards the exit and hurried over to intercept them.  
“Not leaving so soon, Joan? Mind you, so would I if I were in your shoes.” He shot a meaningful look at Vera and then managed to combine a wink and a leer. “Maybe, er, you’d like a bit of company?”  
“Let me stop you there, Derek.” Joan raised her left hand between them, fingers curling over as if to grasp the thread of conversation and pull it short. “I know what you're insinuating and I don’t appreciate it. If you remember, I never have. And I don’t think that the Board will be very understanding either, do you, hmm?”  
“Joan, I’m only being friendly…”  
“So am I, Derek. So am I.” Joan bent, wrinkling her nose at his choice of rancid cologne and whispered into his ear, “now I suggest that you fuck off and find whichever hole on legs you happen to be ramming at the moment and see if you can’t interest them in that withered stem you call a dick.”  
“Joan….!”  
“Good night, Mr Channing.”  
Channing scowled at their retreating backs as the two women made their way to the foyer. Frigid stuck up bitch! Thinks she’s better than everybody else. Dyke bitch!


	3. Chapter 3

Vera sat in the thickly cushioned jump seat opposite Joan and Maggie and watched the two handsome women as the scent of roses filled the car.  
Joan flinched as Maggie laid her palm on her long thigh and began to slide it up and down between knee and crotch.  
“What? You don’t want to do this anymore?” Maggie raised an eyebrow challenging Joan to renege on their earlier agreement. “Loosen up, Joan. Have a drink! You haven’t touched a drop all night, no wonder you're tense!”  
Joan shot a disgruntled look at Vera then to Maggie. “I don’t want a drink.” She wanted Maggie all to herself and she certainly didn’t want to share her with a faithless little tart like Vera…  
“You want Vera to know what she’s working towards don’t you? The girl needs to know, Joan.” Maggie firmly stroked Joan’s thigh and lifted it across her lap prompting Joan to shift and face her.  
Vera blushed. She knew what her prize was…. she’d had a taste of it the night her mother had died.

Maggie worked her hand up the soft flesh of her inner thigh till she reached Joan’s cunt. Rubbing Joan through her trousers Maggie kissed her deeply and languorously, it was full of tenderness and Vera found it so unbelievably hot.  
Joan reached up and lovingly stroked Maggie’s cheek, melting into the kiss as her clit hardened under the familiar touch of her mentor. It had been too long! She still felt the bright flame of desire for her superior but the consuming passion that had filled their early years together had tempered into a deeper, enduring, almost familial love that had sustained them through the decades and miles of separation; Maggie always made her feel safe and warm inside.

Vera gazed on in amazement. Here was Joan Ferguson, stone cold sober and at ease with being touched and kissed, so obviously responding to the insistent fingers of her friend; Vera felt a pang of jealousy but she was starting to get hot and flustered.  
Breaking the kiss Maggie turned to appraise Vera’s reaction, grinning arrogantly as she spotted the signs of arousal. “Getting you going is it, Vera?” She rubbed Joan’s crotch more vigorously, looking smug at Vera’s rising flush of desire. “What do you say eh, Vera? Are you game?” Maggie shot a salacious wink at the now furiously blushing Vera. “Oh, what’s the matter girl? I thought this was your thing now?”

Joan cut in. “This is all new to you isn’t it, Vera? She told me that she’s never seen women do more than kiss and cuddle. Fancy that, all these years in a female prison and that’s the most she’s ever seen. I mean, it’s not as if she peeks into bedrooms or changing rooms like some grubby voyeur is it?” Vicious sarcasm laced her snide words.  
“Well that can soon be remedied and there’s no need to be mean, Joan. You took her to the ceremony to network, you can’t complain when she does just that.”  
Maggie turned to Vera. “I’m sure Mr Faulkner didn’t manage to tempt you away from us, did he, Vera? Did you leave him with blue balls?” she laughed throatily.  
“Probably,” replied Vera with a shrug, “and you underestimate me Joan, the only tempting thing about him was his gossip. Did you know that Erica Davidson fucked Channing to try and save her job? Were you aware that Channing fucked the Minister’s teenage son?” Her sudden anger at Joan’s bitchiness drove her to the next rash statement. “Oh, and if you don’t want to be seen in an intimate situation, may I suggest that you shut the fucking door or curtain or whatever else happens to be open?” she crossed her arms and looked huffily out of the window, wincing a little as she squashed her sore nipples.

Joan appraised Vera with a cool eye wondering how long it would have taken her to disseminate that intelligence if her buttons hadn’t have been pushed, yet feeling slightly mollified as she considered the value of having such an inquisitive Deputy if she could discover such damaging snippets. As an officer, Joan’s currency had been information but the higher she rose in the ranks the harder it had become to keep track of events on the shop floor so to speak. Perhaps it was time to conduct another Intell gathering exercise with Vera and a bottle of vodka….

“What’s the matter, Vera?” Maggie joked, “PMT?”  
“No, GJF.”  
“GJF?”  
“Yeah, Governor Joan Ferguson.”  
Nonplussed Maggie looked to Joan for an explanation.  
“Vera had to make a choice this evening between forfeiting the ceremony or undertaking to be physically reprimanded for her poor conduct.”  
“And seeing that she’s with us now, pray tell, how did you decide to punish her?”  
“See those lovely gloves?”  
“Yes.”  
“See how she winces?”  
“Ahhhh!” Maggie smiled indulgently at Joan.

“Vera, this isn’t the first time Joan has had to use gloves on you like this is it, eh?”  
“No, she told me off for messing up her desk the very first time she fucked me.”  
“But it didn’t put you off did it?”  
“No.”  
“Why not?” She saw Vera waver. “Answer me truthfully, girl…”  
“Because,” she hesitated, “because it felt good. I liked it.”  
“And did you like it tonight, Vera; did you enjoy the pain? Did you feel like you were being punished or was there something else there playing with your imagination? Think carefully, Vera, your answer will shape what is yet to come.” Maggie sneaked a glance at Joan who was pretending to look out of the window.  
Vera took a deep breath, there was no point in lying. “At the start it was, um, well, sexy …. But it got too much and I just wanted it to end.”  
“Well, that’s what punishment is all about. Leaving a lasting reminder of your wrongdoings. Do you think that Joan was justified in her treatment of you tonight?”  
“Um, not entirely, no.”  
“How so, Vera? Tell me what you think she should have done instead. Would you have preferred to have stayed at home tonight?”  
“No.”  
“So how else do you think she might have got her point across?”  
“She could have talked to me like a normal person” she complained.  
“Joan?” Maggie asked, inviting comment.  
Joan slowly turned her head and fixed her gaze on Vera. “Vera doesn’t always find it easy to translate spoken instructions into physical actions, sometimes she fails to realise the consequences of her behaviour. She responds much better to a practical demonstration.”  
“So,” Maggie turned back to Vera, “Joan did what she thought appropriate and you got off in the process.” She caught the faint blush that suffused Vera’s face and continued “don’t complain when someone goes to the trouble of making you wet, Vera; it’s rude and ungrateful. And they might not bother to make the effort next time.”  
Vera was stunned, it was the second time tonight that she’d been called rude!  
“What about the other time, with the roses, do you think Joan was wrong to punish you for disobeying her explicit instructions?”  
“She told you about that?” Her eyes flickered to an impassive Joan who merely raised a single, perfectly shaped brow.  
Maggie just smiled.  
“No, I was in the wrong” Vera admitted.  
“And do you think that Joan would do something to you that she wouldn’t accept herself?”  
“I don’t know. Apart from the night Mum died I’ve never been allowed to touch her, let alone find out what she likes.”  
“So, you didn’t take advantage of her at Christmas then? It wasn’t you snapping her braces? It wasn’t Miss Vera Bennett sinking her teeth into those big, soft tits of hers?”  
She was being mocked. Vera flushed a deeper shade of pink. “But that’s all I know!”  
Well, don’t you worry yourself about that, my dear. A day without learning is a day wasted and we can’t have that now, can we?” she winked and resumed stroking Joan’s thigh.


	4. Chapter 4

Joan let out a low whistle of approval as they alighted from the car and made their way through the manicured garden. “And where did you discover this place? It must be costing you a pretty penny?”   
“It belongs to the Chairman of the Board. He owes me a favour or two and of course, when I said how much I hated staying in hotels he was only too pleased to offer me the use of his holiday home for the weekend. Private beach and everything; not that I’ve had much chance to explore it yet.”  
Joan leaned against the porch pillar as she waited for Maggie to unlock the door. “Hmmm, it’s years since I went skinny dipping.” She stroked Maggie’s hip suggestively, a roguish grin on her lips.  
Maggie cocked an eyebrow and glanced meaningfully at Vera then back at Joan; Joan blinked slowly, the smile sliding from her mouth as she drew away from Vera with an almost imperceptible tightening of her stance.  
The grey haired woman’s hazel eyes narrowed at Joan’s churlishness. “It’s a bit chilly for me but go ahead, Joan – see if you can’t clear that head of yours…?” her expression was one of mocking arrogance.  
Vera watched in astonishment as a silent argument flashed between the two friends. It ended when Joan looked away with a dissatisfied “humph” and rammed her hands deep into her trouser pockets.  
“OK, ladies, let’s get inside shall we?”

“Shoes off. House rules, I’m afraid.” Maggie caught the look of distaste on Joan’s face. “It’s OK, love, the place is spotless, you’ll be right.”  
Perching on a low, stylish bench Vera made to remove her gloves; she was tipsy and would be hard pushed to undo the ridiculously small buckles on her shoes even without them. Her hand was stayed by Maggie’s.  
“No, Vera; don’t take them off yet, let Joan help.”   
In a reversal of her actions earlier that evening Joan allowed Vera to lift and place her foot into her waiting hand and released the narrow straps before silently handing each shoe to Maggie.  
Vera looked down at her stockinged feet and then at Joan’s as they peeked from beneath her trouser cuffs; how small her toes seemed in comparison to Joan’s long bony ones, but then, everything about Joan was larger than life she mused – including her unpredictability. As if on cue Joan’s perfectly pedicured toes splayed as she turned on the balls of her feet and stalked off towards the interior of the house leaving Vera and Maggie looking after her with a mixture of resigned irritation and open appreciation of her physical charms. 

They availed themselves of the facilities and then the younger women settled themselves in the lounge as Maggie busied herself in the kitchen.  
A thick silence surrounded the Governor and her Deputy as they sat immobile on their respective couches; with nothing better to do Vera studied Joan’s sullen profile as the raven haired woman stared out into night, imagining (and not for the first time) what would happen if she went over to Joan and started to kiss her long, pale neck.  
Although her natural instinct was to fill the empty air with babbling small talk she bit her tongue, fully conscious that Joan’s sulky mood was still very much upon her. Instead, she decided on the direct approach, refusing to allow the strained situation get the better of her.   
“Who else are we expecting?”  
“No one, Vera.” Joan replied tonelessly, declining to look at her.   
“But I thought…”  
“You thought what, Vera?”  
“Well, you said ‘select gathering’…”  
“And it is, Vera. Maggie’s not in town for long and she wanted to meet you properly.” For the briefest moment an unexpected smile softened Joan’s profile, “I wanted you to meet her too. I thought it would be good for you….” her low voice trailed off as she heard soft footsteps approach.  
Vera’s eyes switched from Joan to Maggie as she carried the coffee in from the kitchen. Although her shoulders were beginning to round and her cloud of pewter hair framed a strong face etched with deep creases she still held her tall frame erect and Vera could see that she must have cut an impressive figure in her younger days; so similar to Joan.

Maggie bent over Joan as she placed the steaming mug in her hands; she wrapped her fingers around Joan's, forcing her to absorb the intense heat flowing through the thin ceramic, and whispered into her ear. Vera could neither hear what she said nor see Joan’s face but when Maggie pulled back Joan seemed happier yet Vera still felt the coolness in her gaze when she tried to catch her eye.   
Maggie poured two more cups of the aromatic brew and seated herself next to Vera on the sofa. “The Minister seemed rather taken with you tonight, Joan dear, he was quite eager to establish your, ah, ‘domestic’ status.” Maggie smiled archly over the rim of her cup. “He expressed a glowing admiration of your talents; he’s of the opinion that you could go far.”   
“But only under his direct supervision,” Joan stretched and adjusted the heavy coils at the back of her neck, “strange isn’t it, how it took his meeting me in the flesh to prompt his sudden interest in my potential? She bared her teeth in a sardonic sneer.  
“And what potential….!” Maggie chuckled suggestively. “So you weren’t swayed by his promises of high office?”  
“Why should I be tempted when I already have everything I need to satisfy me?” Joan cracked a smile for the first time since they’d walked through the door.  
“And with that in mind, would you be so good as to fetch my red vanity case from the master bedroom, my dear?”   
Joan set her coffee down and winked at Maggie. “Yes, Governor, it’d be my pleasure!” 

Maggie patted Joan’s bum as she paused briefly beside her on her way towards the broad staircase then turned to Vera and placed her mug on the coffee table.  
“All eyes were on you tonight, Vera, they all wanted to fuck you or be you, you know?” she ran her eyes down Vera’s body. “I’m not surprised though, you wear that outfit like you were born to it. Joan has good taste.”  
Maggie suddenly hooked a finger under Vera’s collar and pulled her close, “seeing as our common ground is fucking the Governor of Wentworth I think that we should see if we can’t get to know each other better and indulge ourselves at the same time, what do you think, Vera, mmm? Is that something you’d be interested in exploring?” Maggie stroked the leather choker, fingers fluttering upward to caress Vera’s jaw then slowly tickling their way down to the hide strip around her breasts, slipping lower to catch the tips of her hard nipples through the rich blue fabric. “It’s a shame that we didn’t get chance to talk properly at Christmas but you know how it is when you're the host, never a minute to yourself….  
“I want you to enjoy yourself, Vera, Joan works you too hard; I know she can be strict but it’s because she cares. But if you’re amenable I think we can really enjoy ourselves, what do you say?”  
“Ummm, are you… are you proposing a three way?” Of course she was! The intent had been implicit from the moment Maggie had begun touching Joan in the limo and Vera had spent a lot of the time since analysing how she felt about it. She did find Maggie attractive but it felt weird, like fancying one of her mum’s friends – although none of those women had the bearing and swagger of Maggie Ferguson.   
“No, no I was going to suggest that we binge watch Orange is the New Black whilst we do each other’s hair and nails but now that you’ve floated the idea I’ve suddenly lost all interest in TV.” A slow, dirty grin curled her lips. “Come on Vera; say you’ll be in it?”  
“But Joan’s pissed off at me….. she won’t come at it.”   
“No, she’s not really. She’ll come good, don’t you worry.” Maggie smiled warmly and squeezed her thigh. “I promise you, she’ll be putty in your hands.”  
Vera grinned broadly at the thought. The dynamic between Joan and Maggie completely intrigued her and she could feel herself growing damp downstairs at the thought of the three of them together, naked, sweating, moaning…. “Yeah, I’ll be in it, Maggie” she said a little breathlessly.  
Maggie winked in approval. “Atta girl, Vera!” she said, leaning in to kiss Vera’s crimson lips.

“I won’t have this sort of behaviour, Joan. Accept that your jealousy is unfounded and move on or else call a taxi right now and leave Vera here. Remember, you're doing this for me, although we both know you want it to happen too.” Maggie’s words rung in her ears. Of course she was right, but Joan couldn’t forget the rush of sick panic that had gripped her innards when she’d seen Vera with that man.   
She hated that Vera made her feel weak; she should never have given in to her urges – that first evening in her office, the night of the roses and that ill-conceived fuck after Vera had disposed of her mother – they should never have happened, she had miscalculated and now look at her – letting emotions cloud the issue, only too grateful that Maggie had taken this decision out of her hands.   
She sat on the edge of the bed and tried to rationalise the situation – it was her hormones and ego at play, nothing more; even with all her advancements over the past few months Joan could not recognise Vera as a worthy partner; yet still, she had a particular charm that would not be ignored. Fuck! All that careful planning only to discover that she was the weak link! But she could fix that…. after tonight was over.

Joan allowed Maggie to guide her into the large, open space between lounge and dining areas. “I’m glad you came to your senses, Joan;” she murmured into her ear, “it’s been too long since we managed to spend any time together.” She placed a soft, lingering kiss on Joan’s lips and slipped round to stand behind her, hands resting on the curve of her waist “Vera, come over here. I’d like you to help Joan out of her suit.”

Vera did as she was told. With a near reverence she slid her thumbs under the satin lapels and gently pushed the superbly tailored jacket from Joan’s gleaming shoulders. Maggie caught it as it fell and threw it onto the sofa. Tentatively, Vera flattened her palms against the scarlet satin of the narrow cummerbund, its vivid slash of colour defining Joan’s long elegant waist, and slipped them round to the small of her back seeking the buckle she knew was there. She pressed her body into Joan's and rubbed her face against the bib of the starched shirt as she worked the satin strap loose; it felt odd to be the one doing the embracing she thought. She flung the sash onto the sofa with the jacket, the bow tie went the same way and Vera began to pop the studs securing the crisp planes of dense snowy cotton. She stopped for a second or two when she reached the high waistband of the midnight black trousers and lifted her eyes to Joan’s face; she was met with a look of mild indifference before Joan tilted her head back into Maggie’s nuzzling.   
Well, it didn’t matter, she was enjoying this: she eased the three buttons from their eyelets and held the fabric in place with the flat of her hand as, pushing the small metal head firmly against Joan’s curving belly and pubis, she drew the zip down with an exaggerated slowness. Her small fingers slithered between the silken lining and slippery shirt and she eased the soft material from Joan’s hips, crouching as she guided them downward and held each crumpled leg as Joan lifted her pale feet from the puddle of wool and silk. The deep hem of the dress shirt came halfway down Joan’s creamy thighs and reminded Vera of the shirt dress she’d worn for Joan on the night of the roses – she’d been so excited then, completely in awe of Joan …. so green. She smirked as she stood and unbuttoned the remaining studs thinking how much better prepared she was now to deal with her desires and smiled in sheer delight when Joan’s underwear was revealed – a dove grey satin half-cup bra and matching French knickers.  
“You wore them!” she exclaimed happily.  
“Of course I did, like you said, a special event requires a new bra; and I haven’t seen Maggie in such a long time…” she let her meaning sink in.  
“Unnecessary, Joan!” warned Maggie and poked her in the back. “Ignore her, Vera; she wore them just as much for you as she did me. So, I think that you should be given the opportunity to enjoy them.”  
Vera swallowed hard, oh yes! She was enjoying the sight of Joan in her underwear very much!


	5. Chapter 5

The gleaming satin projected Joan’s breasts upwards and outwards and the peaks of her pink nipples stood proud of the cups, their stiff, crinkled nubs caught on the ribbon edged border, inviting Vera’s touch. Vera licked her lips and stepped forward into the perfumed aura of the shimmering, glorious being.  
“Doesn’t she have great knockers, eh Vera?”  
Vera was shocked at Maggie’s coarseness.  
“Possibly some of the best I’ve ever known, what do you think of ‘em, eh, Vera?”  
“They, they’re beautiful...” she breathed   
“I bet you’d love to get your hands on them wouldn’t you? Well now’s your chance.” She could see that the poor girl was just itching to but lacked the confidence.  
Hesitantly, Vera raised her hands.  
“Don’t stand on ceremony, girl, touch them!” laughed Maggie and bent her head to kiss and suck on Joan’s beautifully sculpted neck and shoulders, eyes still focused on Vera.   
Vera’s pupils dilated and a hot/cold prickle crept over her. She glanced quickly at Joan and then to Maggie for final approval. Maggie nodded for her to proceed. Joan’s eyes were blank but her nostrils flared as Vera’s fingers neared her chest.  
“Mmmm, it fits perfectly,” she smirked running her fingertips over the well packed cups; “you look good enough to eat.”  
“I know, and I must thank you again for your thoughtful gift; although,” Joan’s voice rose a little as Vera began to rub her nipples, “the bra is a little insubstantial for everyday wear at work.”  
“Ooh, I don’t know,” giggled Vera as she tugged at the pink teats and lifted Joan’s breasts out of their soft grey casings.   
Maggie cut in, “magical as it is, I think that this bra would look just as good on the floor” and she released the fastening. 

The structured satin sagged and fell away from Joan’s suspended tits leaving Vera with an unrestricted view of their magnificence. Instinctively she pushed her face between them, breathing in Joan’s scent. She turned her head and the beat of Joan’s heart mingled with her own rushing pulse as her lips grazed the satiny skin, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her. Her hands, momentarily stilled by this perfect moment, tightened over Joan’s breasts and she began to massage their soft, warm weight. Joan’s nipples pebbled further under her nimble fingers until they jutted swollen and rosy, begging to be taken into Vera’s hot mouth. Responding to the invitation Vera's parted lips dragged their way over Joan's alabaster skin leaving a faint track of expensive crimson lipstick in their wake and she delivered a deep sucking bite to an engorged teat.   
Gripping pliable flesh between her teeth Vera grinned as Joan let out a low groan and pushed her chest into Vera's face. She sought out Joan's other nipple and squeezed it hard whilst her teeth scraped the tough flesh in her mouth and she ran their sharp surfaces against the stiffened pink column with a measured pace. She could not get over just how perfect Joan's boobs were and she really, really hoped that she’d get to see them more often. She stared up at Maggie with grateful eyes and was rewarded with a knowing wink.  
Joan flinched and emitted a delicious gasp as Vera's fingertips pinched the very tip of her nipple. The stinging burn felt so good and let forth a wave of arousal that washed up in the pulsing valley between her thighs; she threw her shoulders backwards and fought the urge to cradle Vera's head.

Joan squirmed against Maggie as Vera's insistent touch began to melt her reserve. She grabbed the generous hips of her lover and rubbed her buttocks against meaty thighs, the heavy satin working as a lubricant as she ground effortlessly and sensuously into the older woman’s responsive groin. The familiar, loving kisses painted on the flawless canvas of her neck penetrated the layers of tension and she began to surrender to the insistent urge in her cunt, feeling the freeing surge of helpless desire flow through her body.  
Gnarled fingers worked their way round Joan's ribs and climbed the short distance to the luscious curves of her tits; the span of Maggie’s large hands cupping and lifting them together to create a tantalising view from over her shoulder.  
Vera stepped back and allowed Maggie access, covering her hands with her own as they brutally crushed the tender orbs in their grasp. Her eyes met Maggie’s and she lowered her lips to the cool fingers moving beneath her own, the unfamiliar taste of burnt tobacco made her recoil a little but she couldn’t help but kiss the hands that could control Joan.  
Joan raised her arms and reached behind her cradling Maggie’s head as the older woman bit into her neck. She closed her eyes and surrendered to the moment and the warmth bleeding into her near naked body from the two mismatched women, her carmine lips twitched with the anticipation of kisses yet to come.

Toughened fingertips still roughly fondling Joan's nipples, Maggie released the pale skin from her bite. “Vera, in my case you’ll find some dear little crocodile clips, be a sweetheart and bring them over here.” Her breath caught as she remembered the nights that Joan had worn strings of them along her more intimate curves, creating a symphony of moans and whimpers under the practiced rippling touch of her friend and mentor.

The large vanity box sat on the coffee table, its worn red leather had fired Vera’s curiosity the minute she’d seen it - what on earth was in there? She trotted over and lifted the lid; inside the smaller trays held some odd things like condoms and sharps, and the large bottom compartment was full of lumpy drawstring bags and zipped cases. She found the pot of clips and returned to Maggie and Joan to await the next potentially exciting development.

“Now nice and gently you're going to attach them around Joan’s nipple, on the areolae.” Maggie squeezed Joan's right breast so that the rosy tip pointed at Vera. “Open the clip and press it against the skin, slowly release it and let the teeth do the rest.”  
Hesitantly, Vera held one between her thumb and forefinger and squeezed its jaws open; she thought that it looked a lot like a tiny dragon head. Lifting her gaze, she looked into Joan’s dark eyes and saw what? A flash of excitement, of longing? Vera felt similar feelings swirl in her belly. She bit her full lower lip at what she was about to do.  
Joan hissed at the first wicked bite and her hands clutched at Maggie’s hips. She threw her head back and rubbed her ear against Maggie’s mouth as softly murmured dirty words flowed from those lips.   
When each nipple was garlanded with five shiny clips Maggie sent Vera back to the box  
“It looks like a cross between a cowboy’s spur and a pastry crimper.” It was amazing how medical devices could be repurposed - she loved her Wartenberg wheel.  
“Roll it over those hot titties. There, see how much she likes it? Let’s see if we can’t get Joan to boiling point.” Maggie slipped her hand inside the waistband of Joan’s knickers and grabbed a handful of her springy arse, massaging the prominent muscle hard.   
As Vera began to dimple the delicate, satiny skin with the sharp little points Maggie’s fingers spread and flowed over Joan’s generous hips, regrouping as they encountered the trembling swell of her lower belly and wandered over her rounded thighs. Joan leaned further into her lover as teasing fingertips whispered along the border of her pubic hair. 

Joan began to writhe with the sharp pleasure Vera was inflicting on her; the girl had a gift, she seemed to know instinctively where to place the pinwheel. She let out a tortured groan of ecstasy as the vicious wheel of spikes savaged her rigid nipples. “Oh god, Vera; keep doing that! Mmmm….” Her glittering black gaze settled on her Deputy, the needful look in her eyes boring deep into Vera's soul.  
The illicit thrill that buzzed through Vera from tonight’s developments burst into a throb of salacious joy at Joan's response. She filled with a breath-taking lightness at the realisation that not only did Joan want more but also that hurting Joan like this was turning up the heat of her own arousal. She ran her slim fingers over the alligator clips and pressed her body into Joan's as the tall woman bucked against the confines of feminine flesh.

“Now, Vera, why don’t you see what you can find in these lovely knickers of Joan’s?” Maggie began to loosen Joan's hair from its coils, lovingly combing out the plaits and stroking the ebony waves as they cascaded between Joan's ivory shoulders.  
Vera happily cupped Joan’s mound in her small palm and began to explore her satin covered bounty. Her fingers traced the fullness of Joan's puffy lips to their source before circling the spongy well of her core and then slipping further back and navigating the generous swell of her bum. Her large blue eyes were round with lust and desire as Maggie’s deft fingers roughly fondled Joan’s breasts in front of her making the clips click together and Joan's cunt twitch in her hand.  
Vera began to touch Joan in much the same way that she had done to her in the lingerie store, her fingertips slithering over the rich satin, detecting a thickening of Joan’s outer labia as they parted under her questing touch. Vera made a point of stroking the very tip of Joan’s clit and stared deep into her eyes as Joan began to jerk involuntarily.  
“Take your knickers off, Joan,” Maggie ordered, “show Vera what you're made of.”  
Joan immediately pushed the heavy fabric off her wide hips and her underwear floated down her long, long legs to pool at her ankles. Gracefully, she stepped out of the puddled satin and stood, legs parted, to allow Vera better access. 

Releasing Joan, Maggie moved behind Vera and trailed the smooth pads of her fingers over her bare back. “I think that you’ll find it more fun if you kneel down, you’ll be able to see much better; but, before you do I want you to move over to the dining table – Joan, you’ll need something to lean against by the time we’re done.” She took a few steps towards the lounge then turned back to the immobile women. “Well go on then,” she urged


	6. Chapter 6

Kneeling before Joan, Vera raised her face and grinned mischievously. “Right then, where were we?”  
“Mid-fondle, Vera. Surely you haven’t lost your place already? Maybe you should have marked it with your finger.” Joan leaned back on the broad plane of silky smooth oak and smiled indulgently at the curiously endearing woman.  
Relief washed over Vera, Joan was making saucy jokes so hopefully her bad mood had passed. “Well let me just see if I can’t find it again!” She wet her still gloved index finger and pressed it into Joan’s damp slit, the grin on her face widening as Joan emitted a sigh of pleasure.

Behind her on the sofa Maggie slipped out of her jacket and trousers and then liberated her strap-on from the vanity case. She grinned dirtily at Joan as she cinched the straps and sauntered over to her guests.  
Kneeling behind Vera she encouraged her to spread Joan’s swollen lips and comment on what she found nestled within. Vera shivered at Maggie’s hot breath on her bare shoulder as she asked in her husky voice, “what does she look like, Vera?”  
Vera thought for a moment. “Like rose petals in bearskin.”  
“That’s very poetic. Do you like the way she smells?”  
“Oh, yes.”  
“Does she taste the same, do you think?” Maggie reached a long arm over Vera’s shoulder and trailed her fingers through Joan’s thick juices before pressing them to Vera's full lips. Vera obediently opened her mouth and sucked greedily.   
“She tastes salty….and a bit gamey?”  
“Let me see for myself.” Her hazel green eyes locked into a sultry black gaze, Maggie dipped between Joan’s legs once more and transferred the shining liquor to her own wet tongue. “Mmm, you taste divine, Joan; but then you always did.” Her hands came to rest on Vera's slim waist.  
“Have you ever touched another woman like this, Vera?” She winked at her handsome Amazon.  
“No, only Joan.”  
“But not like this though, eh?”  
“No,” Vera looked over her shoulder at Maggie “and I never thought that anything like this could ever happen.”  
“Why, because it takes Joan time to trust?”  
“Yeah, I suppose so.”  
Maggie gently nuzzled the smooth skin behind Vera’s ear. “Then make the most of it, get busy with those fingers; go on, don’t worry about the gloves, they’ll be fine.”  
A shiver ran through Vera at Maggie’s kiss and she began to burn from the awareness that she was horribly turned on. Her newly awakened sexuality scared and exulted her in equal measure but Joan was all she ever thought about; she never thought that she could feel so aroused by anyone other than The Governor but at that moment she was willing Maggie to touch her where she needed it. 

Vera spread Joan wide, tracing the crests and valleys of her swollen roseate labia and smearing the silken secretions from her twitching vagina all over her sticky flanges, she watched Joan’s stiff clit grow even bigger until it was rock hard and Joan was twitching and gasping loudly, her knuckles white as she gripped the table’s edge.  
Vera was unbelievably wet too, her own clit buzzed between her thighs and her nipples thrust against her bra in such a way that she ached for them to be in Maggie’s strong hands; she gave an involuntary moan and clamped her thighs together.

A lusty sparkle played in Joan's eyes as she gazed down at the two women kneeling at her feet; they looked so good together, so fucking hot!

As if reading her mind Maggie’s sure hands moved from Vera’s waist and along her thighs, back around the swell of her hips to her arse; then fingers traced the long strip of leather that marked the path from her tail bone up to the last visible knobbly vertebrae and began to caress the choker that clung to her thin neck. She gently pulled Vera backwards into her embrace. Vera struggled to keep her balance in her too tight dress.  
“Oh dear, we can’t have you toppling over at the crucial moment, Vera; better let me get this off you. There was a long ripping noise as she unzipped the tight sheath and shimmied it upwards over Vera’s head.  
There, that’s better isn’t it? And just in the nick of time too, it was getting terribly wrinkled, we can’t have you leaving here looking like you’ve slept in it - what would people think?” With a jerk of her arm Maggie threw the gown onto the table top beside Joan. 

Both women took the opportunity to appreciate Vera's undergarments. Scalloped black silk underpinned her pert breasts, the embroidered edges caressing the faint welts that served as a reminder of her commitment to Joan; matching panties, tied at each hip with a pink ribbon, peeked from underneath the deep, embellished garter belt that secured each sheer stocking with four metal tipped suspenders.

With small movements Maggie inched herself against Vera's back. “Put your mouth on her Vera, lick her lightly, lick her slowly, cover every inch of her sweet cunt with that hot tongue of yours. That’s the way, lick her from stem to stern. You see how she responds?”   
Sultry breath bathed Vera's neck and once again she shuddered with desire. She buried her face between Joan's legs and enthusiastically worked her tongue and lips against Joan's engorged folds before a firm hand on her shoulder pulled her away.  
“No need to go at it like a bull in a china shop, Vera. There’s a time and place for fast and furious but this isn’t one of them. Now, as I said to you a moment ago – lightly and slowly.” She released Vera and resumed running her hands over silky skin, her smooth fingers playing with the suspenders and tracing the borders of dark nylon and soft pale flesh that disappeared between the slim thighs.

Joan closed her eyes and melted into Vera's adept translation of Maggie’s expert tuition. Vera's tongue proved to be as nimble as her fingers and Joan’s throat was soon filled with deep groans of pent-up desire. She widened her stance and raked her pubis up and back to offer herself more fully to her Deputy, feeling a delicious burn begin to build in her taut thighs as she fought to keep her footing under the combined forces of proven experience and eager passion. Her mercury spangled hair fell around her face as she reeled with waves of sparkling lust and her breath fought its way between gritted teeth.  
She felt Vera's tongue falter and opened her eyes to see Maggie pressed hard against the small woman in her embrace, long brown nipples pulled taut by her busy fingers. Maggie smiled up at her and began to thrust her hips against Vera's neat little arse.   
The long cock grew warm between Vera's firm buttocks and Maggie's belly.

Squirming against Maggie Vera’s wish started to come true. She was so hot from being fondled and teased she thought she would self-combust, her cunt and clit pulsed and flared as Maggie twisted her bruised nipples, and what she was doing to Joan was almost too much to bear; she lowered a gloved hand from Joan's hip to grip the meaty thigh of Joan's mentor and began to rub her arse against the hard rod that pressed into her muscle. She almost choked on a mouthful of Joan's creamy juices as one of Maggie's hands suddenly dropped to her throbbing cunt and began to massage her swollen flesh through tight silk. The desperate ache that had pervaded her clit and settled deep in her core blossomed into a conflagration of nerve pounding pleasure. Feeling bold Vera undid the silky ribbon at her hip and reached across Maggie's bare forearm to tug at the other bow.

Maggie’s circular motions slowly pulled the black silk loose from the elastic grip of the garter belt until it shrouded her palm and fingers as they worked against the hot folds. Vera gasped as Maggie pushed the silk deep inside her. The sharp burn of the unexpected penetration quickly dissolved into a deeply pleasurable sensation as Maggie tickled her G-spot. Her moans vibrated through Joan's cunt and Vera felt small muscles clench under her tongue.

“Maggie?” Joan's husky tone was strained, “let Vera use her fingers…please?”  
“Already, Joan?” Maggie pulled Vera away and kissed the side of her neck, her tongue sliding over the leather scented skin as the slight woman ground her sodden cunt into her palm.  
Vera looked from one Governor to the other, Joan Ferguson only ever asked permission for form’s sake, knowing that the other party would always capitulate to her wishes; this was something different, Joan was actually asking (almost begging) for something there was no guarantee that Maggie would accede to. She was beginning to get an inkling of just how deep the bond between these two women was and how, if she committed herself, she could have the same thing with Joan and, by association, Maggie too. God how she wanted that!   
“OK, Vera, you heard her.” Maggie lifted Vera's right hand and inspected it front and back. “Such dainty fingers,” she pinched Vera's middle and index fingers together, “tease her with these two first and when you think the time is right add the third, but I don’t want you to touch her clit, Vera. Mind me, girl, keep away from it until I say.” She leaned forwards, pushing Vera into Joan and began to tweak her nipples once more, watching with lust-filled eyes as the two gloved fingers began to tickle Joan's entrance.  
“Up on your knees, Vera.” Maggie pulled her fingers from Vera's snatch leaving the wet silk firmly embedded inside her and lifted her into position by the buttocks. Knocking her knees apart Maggie yanked Vera's knickers out of her vagina and ran the sopping wet material under her nose and darted out her tongue to taste the liquor that shone on the thin material. She grinned up at Joan, “you were right, she tastes so sweet, I’m looking forward to sampling her first hand.” Joan just moaned and shut her eyes. 

Manoeuvring herself between Vera's thighs Maggie began to tease her damp hole with the cock’s rounded head, mirroring Vera's slow pressing and stroking of Joan's slick entrance. As Vera began to teasingly swirl her fingertips just inside Joan Maggie inserted the head into her now dripping sphincter and mimicked her actions.  
Vera moaned and grasped Joan's thigh tightly.  
She cried out as, with one quick thrust, Maggie slid her cock deep inside. The force was such that Vera's fingers were propelled equally deeply into Joan's slippery hole, eliciting a sharp groan and a jerk of her broad hips.   
Joan’s soft, spongy inner walls clutched at her fingers, and in time to Maggie's steady grinding Vera began to slowly pump her arm, adding a rotation as her fingertips swept across fluttering muscle and cushion-like knots of nerves and her knuckles brushed the swollen wet ring that pulsed around them. 

Each slamming contact with Maggie caused bursts of breathless exhilaration to course throughout Vera's frame. Maggie held her tightly by the waist and pulled her down onto her lap as she rapidly increased the tempo causing Vera to brace her forearm on Joan’s thigh and grab onto her alabaster hip with her free hand for balance as she strove to keep contact with Joan's sweet flesh with her other. Joan's heat bled through the thin leather and flowed up her arms to her heart whilst the warmth generated by her and Maggie's coupling filled her belly and cunt and she began to sweat, her lightly tanned skin gleamed with a soft sheen and her scalp began to prickle under her pile of hair. 

Joan started to rotate her pelvis, working up a steady rhythm in response to Vera's regular massaging action, but two fingers were not enough - she wanted more yet could not ask for it without risking Maggie's reproach, and she didn’t want to be made to feel like this by Vera, not yet. If she must suffer the burn of unsated desire then by rights it should be through her own choosing, as so many of their encounters had proven; no, she would not give into Vera and beg. Her low moaning tailed off as her ardour began to wane in the face of insufficient stimuli. Even the sight of Maggie fucking Vera was only enough to keep her in a holding pattern.

But she wasn’t wholly reliant on Vera for her own satisfaction and closed her thighs around the small hand, intensifying the vibrations and increasing the welcome friction of leather on skin. She leaned forward over her damp Deputy and cupped Maggie's cheek in her palm, slipping her thumb across the soft lips of her Governor as she brushed the hanging alligator clips with her palm – soreness flared making her bite her full lower lip – then brushed them again as the inexplicable pleasure they caused locked into her nervous system and she arched like a cat, head bowed and shoulders trembling. The want in her eyes when she opened them again was clear for Maggie to read.

“As you were, Joan.” Maggie stilled Vera's hand and lifted her off the glistening dildo. “It’s alright for you young ones but my knees just can’t take the pace! Up you get Vera.”  
Vera scrambled to her feet and helped Maggie up. She greedily eyed the bobbing cock and the deeply tanned, ample thighs it emerged from, desperately hoping that Maggie wasn’t finished with her yet. Her cunt throbbed and she squeezed it in her gloved palm, her gaze fixed on Joan as she leant, flushed, against the table’s edge. The tickle of Maggie's cock in the hollow of her back made her jump.  
“It’s no good, Vera, you need longer legs! Go and get your shoes on, bugger the house rules.” She slapped Vera's pert buttocks and pushed her towards the door.  
As Vera tripped off to the entrance room and clumsily strapped herself into her dangerously high stilettos Maggie and Joan wrapped their arms around each other and embraced properly for the first time that night. Unconsciously their thighs slipped past each other’s and they ground their hips into each other’s cunt, the cock pressed against their bellies smearing Vera’s juices across the soft skin.   
“I want you, Maggie.” Joan touched her brow to the older woman’s.  
“Not yet, my sweet, Vera's not had her fill and neither have I.” She kissed Joan's swollen mouth, her tongue seeking out the familiar contours and her hands navigating the familiar planes of Joan's body.

They were interrupted by Vera's return. Those extra 4 inches made all the difference thought Maggie, she was almost the right height now. Stepping back she made a narrow space between Joan and herself and pulled Vera into the gap. Vera's upturned chin rested just below Joan's collarbone and Maggie's cock pressed hard against the crack of her arse.   
A loud hiss escaped Joan's lips as Vera’s bony shoulders flattened her prettily adorned nipples and she curled her fingers around the lip of the table as she forced her chest into her Deputy and intensified the splendid, biting pain that made her thighs clench and her cunt ache to be filled properly.  
“OK, Vera. You're not done with Joan yet; and she’s clearly not done with you either! And I have a little business to conclude myself.” Maggie gave her trademark throaty chuckle then kissed the side of Vera's neck as she spied the small hand disappearing between Joan's thighs. Pulling Vera's arse towards her Maggie deftly speared her sticky hole once more with the fat cock and began to slide her hips back and forth.

Even with Maggie's sure hands on her hips Vera was struggling to stay balanced in her ridiculous shoes. Gasping for breath she steadied herself by clinging onto Joan's strong forearm as she braced herself against the onslaught and worked three gloved fingers deep inside the slippery furnace of her Governor, careful to follow Maggie's instructions to the letter.   
Her lips tingled and before she knew it she’d wrapped her fingers around Joan’s neck and pulled her face down to hers. “Kiss me, Joan.” Her voice was thick and commanding.  
The dark haired goddess, her beautiful face shining like the palest rose marble, took a long moment to consider this request. She caught her bottom lip between her even white teeth and her eyes darted between Vera's and Maggie's before finally settling on Vera's bee stung mouth and, inclining her head a little further she covered it with her own. As a thank you Vera surreptitiously rubbed Joan's hard clit with the heel of her thumb.

How she had craved her next kiss from Joan.   
She crushed her lips to the plush of Joan's crimson pout and opened it up with a firm stroke of her tingling tongue. As her hand pushed into the forbidden flesh she filled Joan's mouth and buried her fingers deeper into the roots of the ebony mane that fell around their faces. She felt Joan's tongue respond and ripple against hers as she explored and it pushed its way into her own mouth, firmly probing then flutteringly soft by turns, breathing hard and fast. Vera gripped Joan’s thick hair tightly and Joan moaned into Vera's mouth as she worked her clit against the illicit hand.

Firm pressure from Maggie between her shoulder blades pushed Vera forwards into Joan and she broke their sweet kiss, her forehead following the curve of Joan's jaw, neck and chest as she fell into her hot torso, making Joan sway backwards on the pivot of her firm buttocks.  
She felt her feet leave the floor and her long toes searched for the waxed boards as her elbows connected soundly with the hard oak that supported her. Failing to find purchase Joan raised her feet and planted them on the crests of Vera's pelvis, her heels resting on the tops of her slim thighs and her toes brushing Maggie's fingers.   
In response, Maggie released Vera and ran her hands along the entire length of Joan's overlong legs from toe to hip and hip to toe then clasped Joan's calves tightly as she squashed Vera against the table edge and lustily pumped in and out of the willing, bucking girl.  
Vera was beginning to have trouble concentrating on what she was doing to Joan. Maggie’s fingers had found her clit and she was rapidly approaching orgasm  
“Why don’t you play with her tits, Joan?”  
Vera saw stars. Joan's pinch was brutal and shockingly arousing. Her lower belly contracted and she bore down on Maggie. Jolt after jolt of exquisite, shimmering sensation grounded itself in her fevered cunt and she was taken by the beast.   
“Fuuucccck! Fuck me! Ohhhh fuuccck! Harder you bitch! HARDER!!!” She shouted some more then lost the ability to articulate at all as she clenched her teeth against the battering force of her orgasm; she floundered on Joan's belly, arse pushed back into Maggie as her feet skittered on the polished floor.

A rush of cool air to her cum-lathered labia brought her round and she felt herself lifted up and deposited next to Joan on the smooth table. Joan leaned over and slipped an arm around her narrow shoulders and, placing her large hand over a puckered nipple, gently pushed her onto her back. Her cheek pressed against Vera's, Joan softly massaged her quivering breasts whilst Maggie lazily tongued her satiny frills of hypersensitive membrane, coaxing further silvery convulsions from her overwrought body until at last she was spent.


	7. Chapter 7

Maggie left the two Wentworth girls holding each other on the table and wandered over to the vanity case where she considered her options. Joan had barely got going before Vera came and she was also far from satisfied. Her eyes roved over the contents of each compartment.  
She changed the thick black cock for a slimmer, double ender (nicknamed the Red Devil) and selected three packets of varying sizes then sauntered back over to the dining table. Casually she dropped the items on the table and went to forage in the freezer, returning with a bottle of vodka and a handful of snowy white tea towels. She set these by the other things and approached Joan and Vera.  
Vera looked so delectable curled up against Joan. Her sweet little tits spilled out of her bra and the garter belt really accentuated her waist and hips, and her stockings – well, she’d always been a sucker for a nicely turned leg in a seamed stocking…. But Vera reminded her a little of Geri, the vicious little bitch that had brought her to her knees in almost every way. She cast a bitter-sweet smile over the pair.

“OK, Vera. Just as gently as you placed them on her, I want you to remove those pretty little clips. As each one comes off,” she instructed, “I’d like you to massage the teeth marks with your fingertip.”  
Joan turned to face Vera and planted her feet either side of her slim hips as Vera got to her knees.  
Clit twitching afresh, Vera took a long, slow look at Joan from the fabulous cushion of her firm, broad arse; over the dark matted pelt between her toned thighs, silver spangles bordering a tantalising slash of deep pink flesh; up over her rounded belly and flat midriff to her perversely jewelled breasts. Her gaze travelled further and she felt the warmth of Joan's sultry smile and recognised excited anticipation in her obsidian eyes.

“When you're ready, Vera….”  
Vera jerked and clumsily raised her hand before regaining control and reaching for the first clip. She chose the uppermost on the left nipple first. Joan flinched and stifled a grunt deep in her throat as the sharp little teeth reluctantly gave up their hold. The nasty looking indentations were a deep puce colour and Vera almost hesitated from massaging them as ordered, knowing how painful it would be for Joan, but she wanted to see what effect it would have on this hard to please woman.  
Bright pain flared as Vera applied the pad of her index finger to the wound site and Joan took it and rolled the pain around in her mind until it released its dose of endorphins and she sighed in pleasure.  
As the number of discarded clips increased Joan's nipple grew harder and more wrinkled and her cunt grew wetter and wetter. She could smell her own excitement drifting up from between her open thighs and rolled her hips as the last clip peeled itself away from her angry flesh. The pain was exquisite! Her nipple was on fire and she grabbed Vera's hand grinding her open palm hard against the abused teat.  
The soft leather dragged over sensitive skin, igniting Joan's senses as the deep burning ache in her nipples caused a chain reaction of shuddering convulsions throughout her body and her cunt spasmed hopelessly. 

“Now the other one, Vera.”  
She was struck by the difference in size and shape of Joan's right breast to her left, she’d never noticed it before but then Joan so rarely showed them off. Each time she freed Joan from a clamp she made a point of staring deep into her eyes as their dusky fluttering lids charted her arousal.  
She had both hands over Joan's hard peaks when Maggie interrupted them.  
“I have something for you, Vera.” She slapped a stubby vibrator into Vera’s open palm, both ends were rounded and an electrical cord protruded from one of them attached to a slim control unit. “Use it on Joan, use it on yourself. Just don’t get bored.” She grinned and laid Joan flat on her back.

She unrolled one of the packages and Vera spied steel implements and what looked like surgical dressings, her mind boggled as she wondered what on earth was coming next.  
Maggie unscrewed a small bottle and splashed the astringent smelling contents over Joan's nipples. Next she snapped on a pair of black latex gloves and selected six sharps from a small box and, peeling them from their wrappers, uncapped them and lined them up on a piece of gauze. Her final job was to ease a delicate clamp from its bindings.

These things were so alien to Vera she couldn’t connect them with what she knew of sex, they were the stuff of emergency rooms, of nightmares; but Maggie handled them with confident ease. An erotic fascination crept over her – was this something she and Joan did regularly? Did they do worse? Her clit thrummed at the thought of Joan introducing her to this sort of pain, if she could feel sexy from spankings and nipple clamps then how good could she feel if Joan stepped it up? She stared at Maggie's sure hand as it wielded the silver suture clamp. 

“OK Joan, I’m going to pierce each nipple with three fine needles, are you good with that?”  
Joan took a long, indrawn breath and her eyes filled with eager longing. “Yes, I’m good with that.”  
Maggie smiled and gripped the tip of Joan's left nipple with the shiny long handled clamp and pulled it taut. “Ready?” she asked.  
“Mmmmm.” The sound lodged in her throat, more of a growl than an affirmation.  
Without further ado Maggie slid the first needle through the column of tough erectile tissue, close to the base. The second was inserted at right angles mid-way up, the small orange cone pointing towards Joan’s scrunched up toes and the third skewered the stretched nub just below the steel jaws. Maggie took her time aligning the angle on the final piercing as she worked semi-blind and the tiny spear of steel emerged in perfect position. Releasing the clamp, she quickly capped the sharp tips and rolled her fingertip around the pinnacle of Joan's bristling nipple.  
“Ffffuck, Maggie!” Her hips rocketed upwards.  
Maggie grinned and turned her head in Vera's direction. “Don’t just sit there gawping, girl; shove that thing inside her and turn it on!”  
Vera had been so transfixed by what had just happened that she had forgotten all about the vibrator. She hastily did as she was told, the pearly blue bullet slid easily into Joan and produced a powerful buzz as she thumbed the power to the first level.  
Joan's stomach muscles contracted instantly and her shoulders left the table, a victim of the violent, heaving burst of light that scoured her senses.  
“Ok, steady now, Joan.” Maggie pushed her back down. “Show Vera what control you have.”

As Maggie prepared Joan's other nipple Vera slowly ran the humming shaft against and around the ring of Joan's glistening opening. She was still kneeling but now her thighs were spread wide and pinned to the table by the weight of Joan's twitching legs, stretching out her middle finger to tickle Joan's clit she slipped her hand down and tenderly stroked her own swollen bud. She was astonished at how turned on she was by watching Maggie torture Joan and witnessing just how much her Governor liked it.  
She had to give it to Joan, she barely moved as Maggie drove the needles through her nipples, only the clenching and unfurling of her fingers and toes and her deep breathing gave any indication that what she and Maggie were doing was having any effect on her.  
As soon as Maggie had capped the needle tips it was a different matter though; Joan’s lean body twisted and shook under the intense explosions of bliss and she forced Maggie's hands hard against her abused breasts whilst gripping Vera tightly between her muscular legs.  
The slippery vibrator escaped Vera's grasp and disappeared inside Joan's gushing cunt.

Joan reached out and pulled on Maggie's shiny red cock. “I want you, Maggie,” she rasped. Without another word she pulled her knees to her chest and swivelled away from Vera to face her Governor. The crisp edge of the table cut into the soles of her feet as she bent her knees and spread them wide in invitation.  
With a wolfish grin the grey haired woman removed her blouse and plain white bra. Her tanned breasts were surprisingly pert and her conical nipples were dark brown and hard as she lifted Joan's legs over her shoulders and pressed her tits into the back of her long, creamy thighs, the head of her cock rested on Joan’s clit.  
“Vera! Pour us a drink. Glasses are above the sink.”  
A deflated Vera slid off the table and went in search of the required receptacles. Was that it? Were they done with her now?

With one hand Maggie slid the red dildo up and down Joan's engorged slit and with the other she brushed her studded nipples till Joan's breathing was fast and shallow and then tuned the dial on the little blue control panel up a notch.  
Joan dug her short nails into her thighs and cried out. The vibrator hummed merrily away deep inside her and conjured sneaky surges of grinding desire that hooked into the competing bliss that Maggie was generating and Joan felt, for the first time that night, as if she may reach orgasm.

Vera had filled the tall shot glasses almost to the brim and waited for her next instruction. She dearly wanted to join in and do something about the building tension between her thighs; she’d almost made up her mind to press herself into Maggie's side when it came.  
“Give Joan a drink, Vera.” Maggie's hands moved to Joan's buttocks as she continued to slide the cock the length of her swollen channel.  
Hopping up onto the table top Vera bent over Joan and pressed the cool glass to her dry lips. The crystal clear spirit trickled over her tongue and filled the reservoir of her mouth and as her tongue and throat flexed a small rivulet escaped the corner of her ruby lips and ran towards her strong jaw. Instinctively Vera leant in and dried the trail of fiery liquid with a delicate lick. Her lips were just grazing Joan's when Maggie spoke again.  
“Now pour the rest over a nipple, Vera. “

Cold vodka flowed over burning hot skin, instantly cooling and inflaming the puncture sites.  
“Gnngh!” Joan's fingers clawed at her legs and she bore the deep, vicious sting for a long time until it faded. The spirit drained away over her breast and ribcage, small trails snaking down her belly and hip and cutting through the light sheen of sweat that coated her long, pale body.  
Unseen by Vera, Maggie began to lubricate Joan's arsehole with the copious juices leaking from her occupied vagina. “Give her another drink, Vera.”  
Vera poured half the glass into her mouth and administered it via a lingering kiss that eventually slid down Joan's fragrant neck and chest to the swell of her breast. When the vodka cascaded over Joan's quaking bosom Vera conscientiously lapped up every drop. Her mouth was filled with sweetish taste of sweat and vodka and a bitter tang of perfume and copper. Tiny streaks of blood ran from the rigid nipples.

Seizing the initiative, she took another mouthful of drink and stretched herself up to face Maggie. Leaning in between Joan's thighs she planted her lips on Maggie's and released the rapidly warming liquor. Small runnels escaped down their chins as they swirled it around their tongues.  
Her forehead pressed against Vera’s, Maggie murmured “I have some small gloves in the kit, Vera; go and put them on, I don’t want you touching the piercings with the leather ones.”

Maggie's gloved index finger slipped into Joan's arse followed quickly by its neighbour. She wrapped an arm around Joan’s thighs as the younger woman squirmed against the welcome invasion and groaned loudly when Maggie's fingertips tapped the busy little vibrator through the veil of membranes.  
“Good?” asked the older woman, a lascivious smirk playing on her lips.  
“Fuck me” growled Joan.  
Maggie scooped up a handful of pearly secretions and lubricated the shiny red shaft then deftly eased it into Joan's small, dark orifice. “Is this what my dirty little girl wants? Yes?”  
Moving slowly, she opened up Joan's bowel until she was buried up to the hilt then her pace accelerated into a rolling, rollicking fuck. What Vera had started, she was determined Joan would finish. “That’s what you like isn’t it, eh? To feel my cock deep inside you? Inside your darkest places?”  
Joan reached down and hooked her fingers behind the broad leather of Maggie’s harness, feeling the damp tufts of hair and burning heat as she dragged her lover even closer.  
“Yeah, look at you,” Maggie taunted, “you filthy whore – loving every inch I can give you!”  
She let out a string of low moans and bit the inside of Joan's knee as her cock picked up the vibrations from within Joan and they found their way into her own cunt. Her clit jerked and she clamped her muscles around the thick plug that filled her up so perfectly then groped for the small control unit, turning the vibrator up all the way.  
Both women jerked in unison.  
Maggie's nipples stiffened further as Joan began to thrust back against her pistoning hips, the unremitting tingle running through her dick teased her painfully hard clit and her belly clenched with the quickening sensation that wound her innards in its enticing grip. She turned her mouth once more to the soft skin of Joan's knee and stripped off her gloves. 

Joan twisted her head in its nest of black coils and located Vera at the foot of the table. She beckoned urgently and grabbed Vera's hand as soon as it came into range. “Hurt me, Vera.” She forced Vera's newly gloved palm against her augmented nipple. The nerve-shredding shriek of pain was quickly lost in the full body rush of deep, bone twisting longing and her heavy breathing was fractured by helpless whimpers as she floated adrift on the rolling wave of sensations.  
Joan's dark eyes glittered as she compelled Vera's gaze, her lips had pulled back from her perfect teeth and Vera could see her glistening pink tongue flicker within their confines. Vera slithered as close as she could and pressed her breasts against Joan's; reaching behind her she unclasped her bra and ripped it out from between them, the friction generated by the smooth fabric creating a brief flare of heat as it whispered over their skin.  
“Quid pro quo, Joan” she placed Joan's large hand over her small bare breast and pinched the flesh behind Joan's inflamed nipple making the sweating woman writhe and curl her fingers into fists. The iron grip was hugely painful then hugely arousing; Vera scissored her thighs as a flood of moist heat pulsed its way through her twitching twat.

With Vera laying across her ribs Joan was able to watch the fascinated joy that played across her Deputy’s pretty face with each positive response to her experimental manipulation of her unspeakably tender tits. Maggie ravaged her fundament with fabulous, teeth chattering thrusts and Vera stroked and tickled, tugged and pressed, pulled and twisted until Joan was almost sobbing and her head was thrashing from side to side, eyes rolling behind half-shuttered lids, her hand fell from Vera's breast to claw at the narrow hip whilst the other flailed by her side, fist clenching and flexing of its own accord.  
Vera interpreted Joan's steely grip as a request for harsher treatment and drove the tortured peaks deep into the mass of soft flesh with her thumbs.  
Judging her moment perfectly Maggie rammed the tips of her fingers into Joan's rosy oyster and slid her clitoral hood around the pulsing pink pearl it shrouded.  
A feral, primal yowl tore itself from the heaving woman on the table. She bucked and thrashed as Vera's grinding touch hotwired her pleasure centre and magnified every knock of the throbbing vibrator by Maggie's churning cock deep in her arse, exaggerated every mind-blowing twist and turn of her practiced fingertips. 

Sliding the Red Devil hard and fast into Joan's arse, Maggie’s fingers continued to work their magic, tormenting the quivering ring of muscle that locked the blue bullet inside her lover, her thumb mercilessly rubbing back and forth over Joan’s bullet-like clit as she pressed down hard on Joan's trembling belly just above her dark pubic thatch. Her own cunt leaked hot, slippery silk the length of her burning slit, it crept along the moulded silicone, infiltrating the crevices and folds that slurped and slapped with every twist and thrust, and moistened the surrounding grey curls and tawny skin.  
Sweat gathered in the hollows of her body and each stertorous exhalation was tempered with a small whimper that marked a steady time to Joan's more erratic grunts and groans.  
Joan was getting close, Maggie could sense her peaking excitement and it triggered an increasingly demanding ache in her loins; she had always been able to read Joan's body.

“No more, Vera! Stop!” Joan's pale hands suddenly moved to protect her brutalised breasts. Her body had exhausted its ability to derive pleasure from such concentrated agony and she pushed the over-enthusiastic woman off her.  
Not to be put off, Vera turned her attentions to Joan's cunt but was batted away by Maggie.  
“Not now, Vera.” She muttered urgently and bent forwards over Joan, forcing her knees up to her chest then pushing them wide apart; Joan's sodden cunt smeared silken wetness across her harness and soft, rounded belly. She stared at the raven haired wonder with a ferocious intensity, watching as her expression changed from ecstatic Madonna to ugly, demonic scowl to the rictus of petit mort, her strong, mobile features conveying the uncontrollable forces at play in her overstimulated body. Grabbing Joan's neck, she dragged her into a passionate kiss that stifled their insistent cries and connected them top and tail. As their coupling became more and more frenzied, Maggie's hand slid round to Joan's windpipe and her grip tightened, cutting off vital blood and oxygen. She felt Joan's arms and legs slide around her back and arse and she gasped in pleasure as short nails scored their way haphazardly across her soft skin.  
“You dirty little slut,” she muttered hotly, “riding my cock like it’s the last one on earth. Look at you, all lathered up and still gagging for more!” Maggie bit the swell of Joan's breast and ground her teeth together. “I bet you you’d swallow my hand if I let you, eh? How good would that feel? My fist wrapped round that vibrator? Tickling my own thick cock…?” She pushed her steepled fingers deeper inside Joan's and nudged the blue bullet.  
Joan forced out a stream of strangled yes’s. Jesus! She wouldn’t last much longer if Maggie kept this up!

With permission to be part of the main action denied to her Vera began to address her own need to come again; three of her latex sheathed fingers sank deep into her aching cunt and she pumped them in and out in time with Maggie's rippling arse. The state she was in, it didn’t take long until her eyes were screwed shut and she was rubbing frantically at her massively swollen clit, breath coming in ragged gasps that harmonised with the chorus of lust sung by the two sweaty women in front of her. Her orgasm hit without warning and she skittered on her knees and flung out her arm to keep from falling whilst she jerked and flopped around her wriggling fingers. There was no swearing this time, all that came from her open mouth were strangled, startled gasps that fought their way from her constricted chest. 

Everything beyond Maggie's hot weight and the hard wood at her back faded away as Joan began to glide down into orgasm. Every muscle seemed to knot as the crushing fist of ecstasy twisted and hammered at her insides, her breath whistled harshly in her constricted throat and blackness filled the edges of her vision. Her dark head slammed back into polished oak with the first paralysing convulsion; her back arched like a victim of St Vitus’ Dance and her limbs crushed Maggie to her in a rigid cage of muscle and bone. Her whole frame shook helplessly as surges of spangled velvet darkness fixed the indescribable bliss in the centre of her consciousness. She barely felt her nose smack hard against Maggie's shoulder as a series of rapid convulsions bowed her lithe torso, such was the pull of the fantastic, earth-shattering release. Her limbs felt at once leaden and light as air and her skin prickled and grew tight in the flush of euphoria which enveloped her being and bore her up into the swirl of shivering, sparkling bliss. 

The desperate bucking of the beautiful creature beneath her pushed Maggie over the edge. Joan's bowel gripped her cock like a vice, increasing the force of the vibrating silicone rubber as its ridged inner surface agitated Maggie's engorged clit, rubbed her fleshy labia and slurped in her clenching hole. Held tight in Joan's mantis like embrace her hips froze and she let loose a ragged roar that drove her pelvis in stuttering, grinding thrusts into Joan's clenching rectum.  
She collapsed, exhausted onto Joan and dreamily caressed her quivering breast with shaking fingers. Her sleepy eyes fell on Vera, sprawled bonelessly alongside them and she smiled at Joan's new squeeze thinking of all the potential fun that could be had in the years to come.  
Taking encouragement from Maggie, Vera laid herself against their still heaving sides and kissed them both softly before snuggling up and tenderly stroking their damp skin. Her lips bestowed small, light kisses wherever they could reach.  
Joan brought her arm round and carefully cradled Vera into her chest, long fingers languidly grazing the golden skin of her sweetly curved flank; in that moment she could imagine a real future for them both, for them all.


	8. Chapter 8

Switching on the dishwasher Maggie yawned and stretched her shoulders. “Well, I suppose it’s that time of night. Vera, the guest room is all made up and I got some towels out for you.” She stood and retrieved a packet of cigarettes from her bag, “why don’t you two go on up? I won’t be long.” She pulled a blanket off the back of an easy chair, wrapping it around her shoulders as she headed for the rear yard.

They stood at the threshold to Vera's room “So here we are again” said Vera.  
“It would appear so.”  
She pouted. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”   
Joan inspected Vera's petulant features. “Yes.” She knew what Vera wanted to hear, but it wouldn’t be coming from her lips, not tonight.  
“Fine.” She was not fine, she was far from it – unless you took it to stand for Fucked-up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. She was once more starting to feel that she’d been used. Vera turned the handle and began to push the door open.  
“Vera?”  
She turned her head and found Joan's outstretched hand tilting her jaw upwards and then Joan kissed her softly on the corner of her mouth.  
“Goodnight, Vera, sleep tight.” She offered a comforting smile and stepped away, her fingers remaining on Vera's jaw until the distance became too great and they fell away.  
Vera watched in bemused frustration as Joan padded down the hallway. Well at least she’d been permitted a goodnight kiss this time she thought, it was small consolation though when what she wanted, what she needed was Joan's arms around her as she drifted off to sleep. Loneliness descended on her as she flicked on the light and gazed at the huge bed that needed two people to fill it, she felt her eyelids sting with hot tears as she succumbed to self-pity. 

Joan was remaking the bed when Maggie entered their room.   
“Brrr, it’s getting chilly out there now,” she pulled on her robe, “draw a bath for us Joan, I’m just going to check on Vera. Oh, and don’t fall in!”

Maggie was sitting on Vera’s bed as she came out of the en-suite still towelling her damp hair.  
“Shit! You scared the life out of me!” Vera automatically tried to cover her nakedness with the damp towel, forgetting that Maggie had already seen almost every inch of her.  
“I just want to check that you're OK.”  
“Yeah, I’m getting used to sleeping on my own with Joan in the next room,” she said bitterly and threw the towel into a corner.  
“It won’t always be like that though. That she feels comfortable enough for you to spend the night in the same house as her, and especially in her own home, is a big deal for Joan. The longer you know her the more you will understand why.” Maggie patted the bed inviting Vera to sit beside her.  
Vera sank down onto the soft mattress and stared at her clasped hands. “Will I?” she asked tonelessly, “will I really? Because she tells me almost nothing about who she is. ‘Whom’ I should say.” She laughed mirthlessly.

“Vera, if you want Joan to open up to you then she needs to know that she can trust you to try and understand and be prepared to accept what she tells you without judging her or questioning her methods. But what she feels she needs most is to see you as an equal. It would be easier if you weren’t separated by rank but she tells me you have the skills – all you have to do is demonstrate that you can use them to their best effect. Never be afraid to challenge yourself by reaching higher.”  
“Why do I have to do all the work, what about her? It cuts both ways you know. All of this ‘showing me what I’m working towards’. If you weren’t here tonight do you honestly think that she would have let me touch her? She might have fucked me – probably whilst punishing me for chatting to Jim - but it would be under her rules and she wouldn’t have shown me any affection!”  
“And why do you think that she’d want to punish you for talking with him, eh?”  
Vera couldn’t articulate her swirling thoughts.  
Maggie's warm hand squeezed her upper arm softly. “She was jealous, Vera love.”  
Vera’s mouth hung open. “Jealous? Fucking hell!” she ejaculated, “pot and kettle!”  
Maggie looked startled.  
“She knows how I feel about her but she tells me I have to wait if it’s to develop into anything like a normal relationship, she has this arrangement with you that I’m supposed to accept, and she fucks other women just to get it out of her system like it’s an everyday occurrence….. and SHE’S jealous???”  
“Look, she doesn’t often find people she wants to be intimate with so when she does, her feelings run deep; Joan and I, we fit together but it wasn’t easy and it took a lot of understanding on both our parts - even now we work best in what most would call an open relationship, although the term barely does justice to our connection.” Maggie paused and took both of Vera’s hands. “Now she has you; and I think it scares her because you might have everything she’s ever wanted but then again, you may not, and if she lets down her defences before she’s sure then she opens herself to potential pain and loss. Surely you understand that?”  
“None of us are sure, Maggie… I have no fucking idea what’s happening, if I’m doing the right thing but I know I want Joan to be part of it.”  
“No, but as you've rightly identified, some are more willing to make a leap of faith than others.” She rubbed Vera's upper arm like a mother consoling her child and rose from the bed. “Sleep as late as you like, love. I’ll see you in the morning.”   
She paused at the door, her tall figure filling most of the frame. “Oh, and Vera? I’ve had a great time tonight; you’re a bit of a dark horse aren’t you?” Maggie shot Vera a saucy wink and slipped out into the hallway.

Joan was already stretched out in the large sunken bath when Maggie returned. She took Maggie’s hand as she stepped into the hot, scented water and pulled her down beside her.  
“And how is Vera?” Her words were laced with a lazy, vaguely sarcastic amusement.  
Maggie cut right to the chase. “You’ve got some thinking to do Joan. Vera needs you to be more open and honest with her or I think she might seriously think about walking away.” She splashed water over Joan’s heavily marked nipples and turned her concerned face to her troubled lover. “You don’t have to go into specifics but at least tell her why you’re still so guarded with her.”  
“Oh, not now, Maggie. Please, we can talk about it tomorrow.” The heat of the water and its gentle caress was making her simultaneously drowsy and horny, her clit throbbed and she felt an unmistakable tug in her belly. She just wanted to drowse in this languid moment, safe with Maggie.  
“I think we’d better or we could be up all night when actually, what I want to do, is this…” Maggie eased herself over Joan and kissed her deeply. She cradled Joan's head and slipped her other hand into the small of her back as she greeted her lover, confidante, protégée, successor and, for want of a better term, soulmate properly for the first time in months. She had missed Joan terribly.  
Joan closed her eyes and fell upwards into the kiss, she felt wholly liquid; at this precise point everything seemed right in the world, she was free from the expectations, the judgement, from duty, from vengeance; none of it mattered. Her hands found Maggie's and their fingers entwined in the timeless dance of lovers.

The sound of the ocean filled the bedroom lulling the two lovers to sleep.  
Maggie kissed the untidy parting in Joan’s damp hair. “This is how it should be, just me and you; together.” She gently stroked Joan's ankle bone with her toe. “Love you.” She kissed her smooth forehead. “Night my sweet.”  
Joan's fingers tightened a little on her Governor’s hip. “Love you too, Maggie.”


	9. Fracture

Sleep had refused her its sanctuary once again. She had been thinking of Jianna more regularly than she cared for, far more than was good for her; the soft, vulnerable girl filled her dreams, came unbidden into her memory if she allowed her mind to wander, sweetly tormenting Joan until she thought that her tightly compressed feelings would escape from their carefully constructed compartments and overwhelm her.  
And then there was the problem of Vera. Damn Maggie for pushing her ever further to the point of no return where she would be forced to choose between letting Vera in or cutting her loose for good.  
A dull ache niggled behind her eyes and she tenderly massaged the hollows of her temples until it eased a little. 

Careful not to wake Maggie, she slid out of bed and silently ran through her stretching routines attempting to bring some feeling back to a body that felt cramped and bruised from hours of fruitless rest; but she needed the clean burn of strenuous exercise to ease the tightness she felt inside and quietly made her way downstairs and out to the pool.  
Submerged aqua-marine lights illuminated the faint mist that rose off the still surface and into the chill pre-dawn air; her naked body pierced its nebulous form as she dove through the flimsy barrier between dark and light.  
As she powered through the water Joan centred her thoughts on the future of Wentworth. Smith needed a little more prodding for her to finally make her move on Doyle but with her as Top Dog she would have a clean prison and the Board’s glowing approval. She could let Vera bear the brunt of the work and turn her attentions fully to Jackson. She would avenge Jianna’s memory and, only then, could she allow herself to relax with Vera. It was all there for the taking, the pieces of her plan were lined up - they just needed connecting. 

Sleek as an otter Joan emerged from the shrouded pool and, shedding an almost imperceptible ghost of vapour from her pale form, she moved towards the kitchen. Twisting the towel around her hair she stepped through the wide glass door and smiled tiredly at her father, seated at the breakfast bar. She picked up Maggie’s robe and wrapped herself in soft towelling as she wandered over to the kettle.  
“Why are you allowing your emotions to control you, Joan? It makes you look weak – that’s not what you should be showing your staff.” He stared levelly at her, expecting an answer.  
“She’s not just ‘staff’. I, I …. I like her.” Joan turned away and busied herself making coffee, she didn’t want to witness the contempt in his eyes at her admission, there would be plenty enough of that in his voice.  
Her father considered her confession for a long minute. “And are you sure that she likes you? Have you told her who you are or are you only showing her what you think she wants to see?”  
“She wants my love; she wants me to show emotion. It is, after all, what normal people do isn’t it?” she sneered. Any minute now he would tell her that she wasn’t normal but unnatural. She perched on the kitchen island and scowled at her father over her coffee cup as he stared impassively back at her.  
“But, Joan, that’s a dangerous game to play. Be careful not to expose yourself until you are sure.”  
Joan's face slackened with the realisation that he was not condemning her but was actually offering her advice. 

“But,” The Major continued, “what will you do when she realises that you cannot be loved? That you won’t allow it?”  
Uncontrolled resentment surged through her in a righteous wave and she slammed the mug down, scalding coffee washing over her pale knuckles with the percussive force. “Just because you never loved me properly doesn’t mean that no-one else can either!” she hissed. Her voice grew in volume, “I’ve been loved! I have love now!” her reddened hand gripped the edge of the counter and she stabbed at the air between them with her index finger for emphasis.  
He didn’t bat an eyelid at her outburst. “You're wrong, Joan; how could I not love my own daughter?”  
Joan's eyes narrowed. “No! I’m not wrong!” Her words grew tight in her throat. “I might be made of you but I was never part of you - you loved the version of the daughter YOU created. But you didn’t love ME!” She slammed her palm against the side of the island, her whole body rocking in her anger. Her normally fair complexion blanched further throwing her carmine lips and glittering eyes that blazed from dark sockets into stark relief as she snarled at the impossible man in front of her.  
She jumped as Maggie appeared from around the corner swaddled in an oversized cardigan.

She expected Joan to be using her mobile and her eyes widened in worry at her mistake. “Joan?” Maggie asked tentatively, “who were you talking to?”  
Joan’s red-rimmed eyes skittered across the room, settling on the recently vacated seat opposite her then meeting Maggie’s. A dirty looking bruise ran from the bridge of Joan’s nose and disappeared into the dark shadows that framed her lower lids.  
“Joan?” she asked again, louder. “Joan, are you alright, love?”  
Joan slid from the counter. “Dad.” The name was little more than a whisper.  
“Joan?” Maggie closed the space between them and caught Joan's wrist, her fingers slipping down to curl into Joan's limp palm.  
“Dad’s back” she said in a small voice.  
“Same as before?” A trickle of fear flowed down Maggie's spine.  
“No, he only comes to watch me fence.”  
“You're not fencing now….”  
“No.” The word barely made it out of her throat.  
“What does your doctor say?” Maggie gripped Joan's hand and gazed worriedly into Joan's tired face.  
Joan ignored her question and looked out at the darkened garden.  
“You have been to see him?”  
“No.”  
“Why not, Joan?”  
Joan turned her anguished eyes to her mentor. “Because for all he did, I miss my father.” There had been many things to hate about the man who raised her but when he wanted to, he could be the most magnetic person in the world and she was powerless to resist him.  
“And what does he do when he comes?”  
“He advises me, he ….. he’s looking out for me….”  
“Joan, love; you need to see a neurologist straight away. You can’t risk a repeat of last time.”  
Joan studiously ignored her. She knew what she could bear without risk.  
“Joan, if you don’t make that appointment I will, even if I have to come all the way down here and drag you there myself.”

She couldn’t afford to take time off now. She was finally bringing Wentworth round to how she wanted it. Smith was shaping up nicely, Jackson was unsettled – she couldn’t let up the pressure at this stage. No, too many balls in the air to step away, however briefly.  
And then there was Anderson. As soon as Joan had seen her she’d known that she was different from the dregs that surrounded her. She had a quiet maturity and the most beautiful smile…. Her Peer Worker status meant that Joan could meet with her on a regular basis but Joan was cautious around her. There could be no thoughts of impropriety, she would never let herself get burned in that way ever again but she found the prospect of no Doreen for any length of time strangely perturbing. She took a deep breath as she tried to dispel the ghost of Anderson’s pretty face from her mind. 

“Joan, no-one will think any less of you if you need treatment. In fact, you risk serious and irrevocable damage to your reputation if you allow it to progress unchecked. You know what I’m saying is true, look what happened last time.” Maggie caught Joan’s chin and forced her to look her squarely in the eyes. “You fabricated that whole relationship with Riley. You lost your reason.”  
“Don’t say that! Jianna loved me!”  
“Did she ever tell you she loved you, Joan?”  
“You weren’t there, you didn’t see!”  
“No, that’s true enough. But Cynthia was. Cynthia saw what was going on, Joan – you harassed and used that poor girl. You made your interest so obvious that the other women turned on her! For gods’ sake, Joan; the Deputy Governor had to order her child removed by Protective Services because of the risk you posed to the both of them!”  
Joan slapped her mentor. The sound filled every corner of the room.  
“How dare you! How dare you say that? I loved her and she felt the same way!” She thumped her solar plexus with a stinging fist to reinforce her belief.  
“Oh Joan, my love, my special girl…” Maggie’s husky voice cracked “I know you can’t remember it as it truly was but everything that happened to Riley, and those other inmates, was because of your poor judgement. You're lucky Craven owed me a favour or you’d have been facing your own set of charges.” She held Joan’s face in her hands. “Do you really want to become that person again? Can you afford to lose yourself that way again at this stage?”  
Joan pulled away rubbing her fingers.  
“There’s no-one here to help you recover from another serious breach. You can’t hide in the rank and file now, Joan, the Governor attracts every critical eye; how long would it take for the board to demand your resignation do you think?”

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

With or without their consent, Blackmoor’s Governor Craven didn’t personally care if his officers fucked the inmates but he did care when the Department started to pay attention to a series of systematic beatings and hospitalisations; he’d had Joan shipped out as soon as he could, not caring to discover what was wrong with her and only Maggie’s quick thinking had saved her from a slide into complete disgrace. When Joan had arrived at Rawmarsh Detention Centre she had been a shadow of the strong young woman Maggie had kissed goodbye five years ago. She refused to talk about anything that had happened at Blackmoor. Pale and gaunt, Joan would often lose concentration; other officers began to gossip about her vehement muttering and unpredictable moods.

Needing to know what was going on Maggie had got much of the story from Cynthia:  
Nothing had appeared particularly amiss until late in Riley’s pregnancy. For some reason she began to suffer low-level harassment by the women – nothing significant, just giving her a hard time but Joan, who had an obvious soft spot for the girl, had overreacted and compounded the issue. Joan became Riley’s self-appointed protector, seemingly oblivious to the danger that the role presented to the safety of Riley and her child; and for some reason, blind to the resentment and anxiety that it generated in her ward.

When the boy was born Riley transferred to the Maternity wing and Joan stepped up her attentions. That’s when Cynthia said she’d known for sure that Joan was fucking the girl. The women were sympathetic to Riley’s plight, hell they even told her to fake an orgasm as soon as she could to get Ferguson to leave as quickly as possible, but they envied the ready supply of contraband that Ferguson left her in payment and they also resented having to make themselves scarce when Ferguson came prowling for dark meat. Hints were dropped to officers, cryptic comments left hanging in the air but they could do nothing concrete about it.

Joan had recruited a new informant and it was paying dividends; her record glowed with instances of cash and alcohol seizures and disrupted drug networks. But the women thought that it was Riley who was the lagger; they were only too eager to condemn her; and Jianna’s special relationship with Ferguson was all the proof they needed.  
When Cynthia had tried to broach the matter with Joan she had received short shrift, Joan denied any involvement with Riley.  
The day after her baby was taken away Riley was badly beaten as a message to laggers; her cell was stripped of all buy-up and the women sent her to Coventry. Cynthia wasn’t surprised that she was found swinging in the stairwell less than 24 hours later.  
After that Joan had shut down. The only emotion she showed was when that lackwit Bryant had tried to blackmail her; Joan had nearly killed the woman and to re-enforce her message she’d methodically worked her way through Bryant’s associates until Governor Craven put her on sick leave. 

The painful knowledge weighed heavy on Maggie’s mind and time and again she had tried to draw Joan into revealing how she felt. Her favourite girl, the one who had no secrets from her, would close down and stalk away. Maggie knew that something was wrong, this wasn’t the Joan she knew; something was terribly wrong.

Then, three months into her new contract, Joan suffered a fit.  
That day her father, now an ever present voice in her ear, had once again criticised her lack of control. He told her that it had been her wilful display of emotions that had caused the situation she now found herself in. Allowing herself to develop feelings for one of the prisoners, he derided; a criminal, and a girl at that!  
Disapproval coloured his words with an ugly hue. She should have guarded herself better, he told her – not let her weaknesses dictate her actions. What she had called love was little more than a surfeit of hormones, it could never last the distance when she had chosen to embark on such an unnatural relationship with someone so unsuitable. What did she expect?  
Joan clapped her hands over her ears in a futile attempt to block his scorn.

She was a fool to let grief override her reason and her self-composure, her father chided, the anger that had consumed her was folly – a good tactician would never have found themselves in that situation. And where had it got her? Did she feel any better? Had it advanced her cause any? No. Had she learned nothing from him?  
Even now, at Rawmarsh where she had the perfect opportunity to put it behind her and return to the clear thinking, even handed officer that she prided herself on being she was allowing herself to wallow in self-pity. Is that what he had taught her? To crumble when an issue appeared insurmountable? There was nothing that she could not overcome if she took the time to assess and plan, she just needed to exercise willpower and shut out the distraction of an emotional response. But then, she knew that…  
“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” Spittle flew from her pale, cracked lips as she screamed at the military man in the corner of the room. “Why can’t you just comfort me? What’s wrong with you? Just go awa…” she couldn’t finish the last word, “…y…y…y……..” The room fell away and her last memory was of her father’s army boots, polished to a mirror shine.

She groggily opened her eyes to see Maggie’s worried face hovering over hers. “Shh, shh, Joan; just lie still. You had a seizure of some sort. Don’t worry; the ambulance is on its way.”

The X-ray showed a large growth spanning the frontal and temporal lobes of Joan’s brain. Benign and highly intrusive but wholly treatable. They wanted to know if Joan had experienced issues with her judgement or if she’d been suffering mood swings and headaches, perhaps she’d been seeing or hearing things that she couldn’t explain. Joan denied having any symptoms whatsoever.

It took them three days to decide how to remove the growth. In that time they kept Joan mildly sedated in an observation ward and Maggie was able to get the whole sorry story from her.  
Her father, she explained, would come to her in that limbo state between sleep and wakefulness. He chided her for being too lenient with the prisoners, he criticised the lack of progression in her life and as always, he compared her against her brother, Brian – the golden haired child and apple of his eye.  
Joan said that she’d put these dreams down to the arrival of a new prisoner, a pregnant Aboriginal girl whom, for some inexplicable reason, generated an almost motherly instinct in her. Over the next few months her father’s visits became more frequent and he found a way of escaping her dreams, appearing whenever he felt like it to observe, assess and review her behaviour. 

In that time, Joan said, she’d developed strong feelings for the new inmate, Jianna, and Jianna had welcomed and returned them. She recounted how they snatched breathless stolen moments, furtive looks, how Jianna had relied on her strength as her pregnancy had advanced. After the child was born, after Jianna had healed they had made love for the first time. Jianna had trembled and cried with the beauty of it all and Joan had found herself profoundly touched by the tenderness they shared.  
Jianna occupied her thoughts day and night, she became distracted and that had attracted concerted criticism from her father.  
He was always with her now, his voice a constant buzz behind her right ear. The only time he would be quiet was when she was with Jianna, in those quiet, affectionate hours, when she brought the quivering child to shuddering orgasm and then pressed the girl’s loving, joyfully tearstained face between her thighs.

And then, her world had fallen apart.  
Maggie thought that her heart would break; so firmly did Joan believe that she and Riley had been lovers, had been in love.  
Joan hoarsely described how Jianna had swung from the second floor landing; she’d burnt her hands on the rope lowering her lover’s body to the floor. How, dry eyed, she’d numbly descended the stairs and knelt beside the love of her life. Joan’s slurred words were halted by the pain that the memory caused, she’d curled up into a ball as she relived the moment when the howling in her mind escaped in a heart rending cry of desolation and she gathered Jianna in her arms, rocking her as scalding tears of wretched misery fell from her anguished eyes, filling her mouth, catching in the dark wavy hair like diamonds of despair. Why couldn’t she have been enough for Jianna, enough for her to live for?

The women had preyed on her grief like hyenas. That stupid, cocky bitch Bryant had tried to blackmail her. She wouldn’t be silenced by the usual methods like loss of privileges or an educational slap. Joan explained how Bryant had forced her to take their negotiations to the next level.  
Maggie merely nodded. Dominance was the key in all dealings with that sort of scum.  
But Bryant had goaded Joan, and in her sorrow Joan had not been capable of rising above it; each cruel word had raped her battered soul and she’d lost control, it unleashed a vengeance in her that hadn’t died with Bryant’s annihilation and one by one she’d targeted Bryant’s crew; oh, how they shrank from her like the miserable vermin they were! Only Maxine Daniels remained unscathed when Craven had pulled her from duty, but she was on Joan's list….. Her dark eyes glittered feverishly as malice flooded her thoughts.

The operation was successful and Joan was left with a neat scar above her ear that was soon hidden by her thick, fast-growing hair. Ivan had gone but her grief still surrounded her; she had never known a loss so painful. 

Maggie had hated telling Joan what she had done whilst she’d been altered. It broke her heart knowing that it wouldn’t salve Joan’s conscience to be told that the hallucinations were out of her control, that her emotion and reasoning functions were severely compromised.  
The doctors said that her brain regarded those emotions as true memory and that at best Joan could learn to accept that they were products of altered brain physiology but she would always feel that they were a true reflection of that period of her life.  
Joan accepted that her father was an hallucination – after all, dead parents didn’t just magically reappear again, but she flatly refused to accept that Jianna had not returned her affections or that she had been at fault in any way and grew resentful at what she saw as Maggie’s jealousy. Not even Maggie’s grudging admittance that the beatings of Bryant and her clique were mostly justified tempered Joan’s animosity. It became something that they could not discuss.

So she took solace in Nils, her oldest (and to Joan’s tormented mind, her only) friend; he soothed her whilst she brooded over the Deputy’s role in driving Jianna to suicide.  
It devastated her to think that she had not been able to comfort Jianna, that her love had not been enough to sustain her special girl through the rest of her sentence until the time that they could be reunited, all three of them as a family.  
In her grief she envisaged visiting painful retribution on the man who had destroyed her life. In the dark days and darker nights she imagined torturing the weak bastard, employing the sort of techniques her father boasted about in his drunken mania: electrocution, breaking each bone in his hands and feet, red-hot needle pliers; but they were too controlled – the demon that thrashed inside of her brought wild, vivid fantasies of physical violence, of maiming and destruction; they filled Joan with a taut energy that would not leave until Nils installed a punching bag. She exhausted her body on it, welcoming the bruises that her uncontrolled assaults brought but her mind would not turn off. She almost wished that her father would come to her again, she badly needed his guidance; he would know what to do….

But Nils knew too. He held her against his broad chest in the middle of the night and told her that he could help ease the pain – for a nominal price; it was her choice.  
It was suddenly breathtakingly clear - for taking away her beloved the man would die; the decision was easy to make; it was logical, it was right. 

Nils travelled to Northern Queensland and a few weeks later the local papers ran a story on how the Deputy Governor of Blackmoor had been found at the foot of his stairs with a broken neck. The inquest revealed that the deceased had LSD in his system and the Coroner concluded a case of accidental death; the small video cassette tape that Joan received in the post proved differently. True, the man had fallen down the stairs in his terror but it was the dark figure in the Kabuki mask that snapped his neck; in the brief minutes before his brain became as dead as his body Nils explained the folly of the man’s actions and his personal regret than now two families would be grieving, not just one. 

*****************************************************************************************************************************************

“Please, Joan, go and see a doctor?”  
“When I get time.”  
Maggie frowned at Joan's sulky tone and her lips grew thin. “Make time, Joan. I mean it.” She took Joan in her arms and hugged her tightly, stern features softening in the hollow of her chlorine scented neck. “You're too important to me…”  
Joan let herself sag into the reassuring mass of her lover. She suddenly felt as if she could sleep for a hundred days.


End file.
